Seas the Day
by Converse r life
Summary: Collection of different drabbles and one-shots, all featuring moments and characters from Disney's The Little Mermaid.
1. Weeks & Months

_**Hi all! After a few crazy months, I'm back in action. This is going to be an ongoing fic - each chapter will be an individual story. Some may just be drabbles, while others may be much more fleshed out. Recommendations are welcome, just drop a PM or review.** **Happy Holidays, let me know what you think!**_

 _ **-Converse r life**_

* * *

A sudden jolt forced Eric's eyes to open, his hand automatically reaching for the sword at his hip. His heart rate sped up, and he could only hear the blood rushing through his ears. It wasn't until his hand closed tightly around the hilt that sense started to return to him, eyes blinking in the darkness.

He was in the carriage, he quickly ascertained, on the way back to the palace. He didn't remember falling asleep, but obviously he had somewhere along the way. There was no threat, only bumps in the road.

His hand that was still gripping the sword's hilt went slack. He sighed, realizing that he'd overreacted. He tried to shift his body, tiredly deciding that he wanted to get back to his nap.

In doing so, however, the person laying _on_ him made a sound of disapproval.

A smile curved at the corners of his lips as he looked down at his lap and realized Ariel was currently using him as her pillow. Her long hair was spread in every direction, bangs having fallen and now covering half her face. Her dark cloak was thrown over her like a blanket, but he could still see one of her bare shoulders peeking out. One leg dangled off the seat, the foot missing its shoe, while her left arm had fallen as well.

He brushed her bangs back, exposing a closed eye and part of her cheek. She gave a sleepy murmur of approval this time, moving her face towards the warmth of his hand. She was fast asleep, he realized, and his grin widened.

Not too long ago, being so intimate towards her would have caused quite a stir. As it was they'd barely dodged the rumors of partaking in some rather scandalous activities.

Then again, Eric considered as he caught the glint of gold around her ring finger in the moonlight, they'd only been wed for three months.

* * *

"Are you sure it's not broken? It sure feels like it." Eric complained, stretching out his right hand fingers slightly, before hissing in pain.

"Positive, your highness," Doctor Berg responded, rifling around through some cabinets in the infirmary. "It's just a good bruising on your knuckles, it shouldn't take anymore than a few days to heal."

"I suppose I'll just be left-handed for the rest of the week," Eric said, frowning down at his swollen hand. "Although, I'm sure if I practice enough eventually I could hold a pen without it hurting _too_ much."

"That might be difficult, sir, considering your hand will be bandaged," the doctor replied, having since found the bandages and holding them up for Eric to see.

The prince made a face, immediately letting his injured extremity retreat. "I am _not_ getting my hand wrapped up."

"With all due respect, sir, that would be a poor decision," Doctor Berg started, walking back towards the infirmary bed Eric was sitting on. "Your hand will heal faster if it's not jostling around."

"It's not manly to walk around looking like I'm some idiot who doesn't even know how to throw a punch, though." Eric replied, eyes darkening at the very idea.

Doctor Berg opened his mouth to reply, then thought better of it. It was a silly line of reasoning, yes, but that meant little in the scheme of things. He neither had the authority or the audacity to overrule his prince, especially when it was something so trivial.

But there was one person who would.

And he could hear their running steps already.

Knowing what was about to occur, Doctor Berg took a step back. Then, just to be safe, he took two more.

The door to the infirmary swung open, crashing against the wall heavily. All Eric saw was a blur of red, before he had the wind knocked out of him. Amidst a tangle of limbs, he fell back against the bed, thankfully having enough foresight to keep his hand up and away.

"Ariel," he choked out, wheezing as he tried to capture his breath, "Too…tight…can't…"

She loosened her hold on him, but instead of letting go completely, gripped his shirtfront with worry. She was half lying across him, and half standing, an awkward sort of position. But she had more important things to think about.

"Are you okay?" She demanded, not waiting for a reply. "I heard you got hurt! _I'm_ the one who gets hurt; _you're_ supposed to be the one that stays away from it! Then I heard you were in the infirmary and—stop laughing!"

Despite the fact that she could have knocked him out cold, Eric started to chuckle at her hasty explanation, which led her, in turn, to pout. "I'm serious, I was _so_ worried. What did you even hurt? You look fine to me!"

He propped himself up on his elbows, using his good hand to gently lower hers from their grip on his shirt, and moving his body slightly to give Ariel a bit of room to sit on the bed. "How was your fitting?"

She made a face; he laughed again. "I still don't see why I need to keep getting fitted, it's not like I'm growing or anything, and she's always grouching about how—wait! You're trying to change the subject!"

"The color of that dress really brings out your eyes," he said in response, smiling far too innocently.

She gave him a narrow stare, crossing her arms over her chest. He always tried to flirt when he was avoiding her questions. She slid off of him, and sat on the bed itself, turning across the room to the doctor.

If he wasn't going to tell her, then someone else would. "What did he do?"

"He punched Lord Rocesser in the face, Your Highness," Doctor Berg answered, ignoring the pleading look from Eric not to tell. "He bruised his right knuckles in the process."

Ariel's brows shot up, her mouth hanging open in surprise. She turned back to her husband, clearly not having expected _that_ as the answer. "You _punched_ him?!"

"It's really not as bad as it sounds," Eric replied, fidgeting and keeping his gaze down, like a child whose hand was caught in the cookie jar.

"Did he try to punch you first?"

"Well, no…"

"Did he say something mean to you?"

"Not particularly…."

"Then what happened?!" She asked again, clearly exasperated.

Eric sighed, running his left hand through his dark hair. It had been a long day. He looked towards Doctor Berg, avoiding Ariel's anxious eyes, asking, "Can we have a few minutes alone, please?"

It was a dismissal, but a kind one at least. The physician let his eyes flicker back between the prince and his princess, before nodding. There really wasn't any other option, besides saying yes.

"As you wish, sir," he answered, but handing Ariel the bandages in the process. She blinked, accepting them, not understanding why. "See if you can convince him to have his hand wrapped up, Princess, he won't listen to me."

Ariel cast a glance back at her husband, who gave her a sheepish look. She rolled her eyes, determinedly gripping the cloth in her hands now. "Don't worry, I will."

"I have no doubt about it," the doctor muttered, more to himself than anything, as he left the infirmary, this time gently closing the door behind him.

The quiet in the room enveloped the couple. While Eric really didn't mind it, he counted the seconds until his young wife would break the calm. He was at forty-three when she finally sighed, speaking up.

"Why did you punch Lord Rocesser?" She asked finally, reaching for his good hand. She curled her fingers around it for just a second before he pulled away; she frowned.

"It was a gentlemen's disagreement, that's all." He answered, her favorite grin tight across his face.

She studied him for a moment, her frown deepening. "Eric."

"Ariel." His voice held the warning, the pleading, for her to just drop the subject.

"Was it something about me? Is that why you don't want to talk about it?" She wondered slowly, as though coming to this realization as she spoke it out loud.

He said nothing, instead choosing to focus on his still swollen hand.

She sighed again. "We've been through this; I'm a big girl, Eric. I can take it."

He looked back at her, eyes unaccustomedly serious. "It's one man's idea, that's all."

"And he has a right to it, but that's still avoiding telling me what he said," she responded, carefully making sure she didn't put too much emotion into this. If he thought she couldn't take criticism, he'd keep hiding these things from her forever, and she _should_ know. "Please, Eric."

He sighed this time, shoulders dropping. She'd worn down his defenses. "We were just having a discussion, back and forth, and I mentioned that the king of Corona and his wife were expecting. And he made a joke about…well…"

"About…?" She prodded, wanting to get to the root of the problem.

"About how…I think he said something like 'If the rumors are true, then your wife will have a new baby even earlier than they will' and…I don't know, I just lost it."

Ariel's brows fixed together. "That doesn't make any sense, how would I get a new baby before they did?"

Eric grimaced. "He's implying that you were…expecting, before we were married."

There were many things Eric expected when he explained. He expected her to blush at the shock of it. She might have even stammered, or at least been very hurt at the implication.

Instead, she snorted with laughter, immediately covering her mouth. Eric looked at her with confusion, which made her only start to laugh harder. She wiped away the tears from her eyes, biting her bottom lip hard so that she wouldn't giggle any more.

"That's it? That's what made you punch him?" She asked, still fighting back her laughter as much as possible.

"What do you mean "that's it"?!" He indignantly questioned. "He's practically saying that you and I were—!"

"No, I know, I know," she replied, still grinning at the idea. "It's just…it's _so_ ridiculous."

"Of course it is, but it doesn't make it any less inappropriate." Eric said, almost suspiciously, as though he was still waiting for her to laugh again. Then, as an idea sprung up in his mind, he swallowed hard, asking, "Wait, you're not…?"

Ariel's eyes flew wide, almost alarmed. "What? No! Of course not, we've only been married a month!"

He gave a relieved sigh, wrapping his good arm around her, and pulling her close. "I just don't like it. I don't want people to call your honor into question."

"It's a silly rumor, Eric. You can't get overworked, much less punch someone because of it." She replied, obviously not impressed with his show of force. "Besides, you and I both know the truth."

"But you didn't hear the way he said it. It was like he actually _believed_ it! I couldn't just let him…you're so much more than what he thinks." He responded, his words marked with sharpness at the notion.

She twisted her lips, thinking, as she brushed her bangs away from her face. She moved away from him, jumping off the end of the bed so that she could look at him better. "Don't use me to excuse your actions. You know the gossip will probably die down soon, once it becomes pretty obvious that I'm not expecting _anything_."

He deflated at her words. "I thought you would be proud that I tried to defend you."

"I never said I wasn't proud," she protested, taking what she assumed to be his injured hand in her own. He cringed at the initial pain her soft probing fingers created. "I just don't want you hurting your hand anymore. As it is, you're going to have a hard time writing out an apology to him."

"I know I will," he sighed, before perking up, wonderingly, not realizing that she was still assessing his injured hand. "But you did appreciate that I stood up for you, right?"

"You could say that," she answered, a smiling hinting on her lips. She started to bandage his hand herself, tightly, but with some wiggle room. "You could also say that I hope you know how to undo knots one handed."

"One handed?" He questioned, realizing what she was doing, but far more interested in what she was suggesting.

She said nothing, instead arching her back slightly, as though she was stretching, and exposing the small, neatly tied bow at the bottom of her bodice.

He grinned.

* * *

It was a curious thing, being married. He'd never given sharing his room, his dog, his _life_ , with someone else much thought. His own parents had led separate lives, like acquaintances most of the time; sometimes he wondered what they would have said about Ariel.

The grin fell from his face, a fissure appearing between his brows as he thought deeply, focusing on the small window. He had a sinking feeling, though he'd never tell Ariel, that his parents would not have approved of the match. She was the most sincere, and not to mention beautiful, person he'd ever met, yet…she wasn't exactly "conventional".

Not that he minded.

But his parents…well, suffice it to say, he was mildly surprised there'd been no reports of the late king or queen rising from the dead when bells across the land had rung in celebration.

He looked back down at his wife, wincing. She hated when he made tasteless jokes about his deceased parents. And when she thought he wasn't looking, he could see the troubled worry in the corner of her eyes.

* * *

"Checkmate," Ariel declared, rather smugly as her queen took the last piece from her opponent.

Eric stared at the board, feeling dumbfounded and defeated. "How do you keep _doing_ that?"

"Because you keep making it easy," she answered, already setting up the board for another round. "Besides, the rules are pretty similar to Atlantica's version of the game, and I used to play Daddy all the time. I'm sure you played with your parents too."

"Moving the pieces is a bit of a problem when they're six feet under," he said dryly. "But then, no one said it would be easy to play against a gravestone."

Ariel paused, a knight hovering just above the black space she would have put him. Worriedly she said, "You know, you only ever talk about your parents in dark jokes."

He looked at her, perplexed. "'Only ever'? We've barely been married two weeks, and only known each other for a little over a month and a half; I've maybe mentioned them three or four times."

"And each time, it's been with grim humor," she responded, sighing. "I wish you wouldn't talk about them that way."

"Why does it upset you so much?" He wondered as a way of response. "They _were_ my parents, and I don't mind it much."

She fidgeted with the knight still in her hand. "I just don't like it. It's not right to make light about the situation."

It was his turn to sigh now, glancing at the window, and realizing that sunlight was starting to stream back in. "Can we not talk about this? The rain seems to have cleared, let's go to the beach."

She looked, for a moment, like she wanted to press the situation, but instead gave up. "Alright then."

A smile lit back up on his face, and he grabbed her hand, apparently ready to leave. But it was hard to miss the concern still evident in her features.

* * *

He never had to worry about her being completely up front with him, he mused, stroking her bare shoulder. She shifted slightly at the new sensation, but settled almost immediately, lost in whatever dreams she found herself in. He hoped they were good ones.

There were things he loved to ask her, about Atlantica, about growing up a mermaid, about adventures he could hardly fathom. Often he felt that for as many (and there were _a lot_ ) questions she asked him throughout the day, he asked the same amount.

Yet, there were things he carefully avoided asking, somehow knowing that it would only pain her more. He knew homesickness had hit her hard, and he could see the odd, almost magical lure the sea still held over her.

* * *

A consistent knock at the door that turned out not to be the woodpecker in his dream, but rather happening in real life, made Eric groggily sit up. He rubbed his half lifted eyes, yawning. Jerkily, he stumbled out of bed, having enough foresight in him to find a way to his dresser and pull out a shirt.

Pulling it over his head as he walked, he yawned again, opening the door.

"Yes?" He asked, grumpily and wanting to return to his comfortable bed.

"Sorry to disturb you, sir," a guard not much older than he said, his voice quiet. "But, er…she fell asleep on the beach, and we weren't sure if it was alright to leave her there or…"

For a moment, in his still very sleep addled mind, Eric could not comprehend what the man was saying. Slowly, it started to form together, like a puzzle, and it all fit together when he saw a young woman fast asleep in the guard's arms.

A young woman with long red hair, tied in a braid, and dressed only in a nightgown.

Or rather, his wife.

He sighed, reaching over immediately to take her. The young guard seemed all too eager to hand her over, most likely made very uncomfortable about the entire situation. She seemed to instinctively know that it was now her prince holding her, for she curled into his chest, fingers closing around the fabric of his shirt through her sleep.

"Thank you for bringing her back," Eric said, a bit more awake now as he nodded towards the man. "If that's all—"

"Actually, Your Highness," the guard cut in, a bit nervously. He was one of the newer recruits, a bit on the stocky side, and probably around Ariel's height. "I—I know the Captain says he has orders, from you, sir, not to interfere if the princess is walking around the palace and ends up going to the beach at night, but…"

"Yes?" Eric asked again, this time sharply.

He braced himself for his orders to be undermined, perhaps looked at through a hard lens. After all, it wouldn't be the first time in the nearly three months since their wedding that someone expressed their misgivings about his going about certain things when it pertained to his wife.

"Well, Your Highness, sir, I, um, overheard her crying, sir, and…uh…" Here the guard swallowed hard, as though thoroughly intimidated by Eric's single raised brow. "I mean, sir, I know for me, t-the homesickness isn't as bad whenever I can write to everyone, and they write back, and—and I know it's different, Your Highness, sir, because the princess is—well, but if there's a way she could get to talk back and forth with her family, I-I think it might help."

Eric appraised the guard for a long moment, watching as the man fidgeted, obviously mortified that he'd shared something so personal, and had even given the mere proposition to his ruler.

He looked down at Ariel, noting the flecks of sand that stuck out through her unruly hair. He sighed again; this was the second time this week. Although the guards had strict orders to watch her once she was down by the water (she wasn't a very strong swimmer on legs), he couldn't keep requesting that they abandon their posts to focus on her nighttime sojourns to the sea. Not to mention that she _still_ hadn't told him about her homesickness, or how she slipped out of bed some nights, and he feared it was starting to get out of hand.

He looked back at the guard, nodding with firm resolve. "If it'll help, I'm willing to try it. Thank you for the suggestion."

The guard looked almost too relieved. He quickly bowed low, hurrying off as though the prince might change his mind.

Eric, in turn, closed the door with a soft thud using his foot, and, after placing her back in bed, curled in himself. In the morning, he needed to figure out how to send a message to Atlantica.

* * *

Her sisters were a riot, all six of them. They'd been slow to warm up, but that was to be expected, and it appeared that as of now they almost seemed to like him. Of course, they also thought his swimming was the funniest thing they'd ever seen, mimicking the way his arms and legs had moved underwater.

King Triton was…well, he was King Triton. He was as intimidating as father-in-laws come, to be perfectly honest. Though, Andrina swore that the king liked him, because if he didn't, his head would be a great trophy in the throne room.

Attina said to ignore her younger sister, stating that it was only a joke.

Eric wasn't sure if he could believe that she was just kidding.

It was an amazing feeling, however, to have a sense of family again. In her he'd found a best friend, and in her family, well, people who accepted him, despite their misgivings. He had a feeling it was more out of devotion towards Ariel than anything, but the thought was there, and it was enough.

Of course, he mused, grinning ruefully as her lips moved silently in her dream, he was looking at it all through rose-colored glass. Not everything was perfect in their marriage, and they could fight so hard he was sure the shingles on the palace roofs shook.

* * *

" _What_ is your problem?" Ariel irritably asked, shaking off his hand from her arm, after being half-dragged to the portrait gallery.

He looked at her incredulously. " _My_ problem?"

"Yes, your problem!" She snapped. "You drag me in here while there are guests waiting for us in the dining hall and don't even give me an answer when I asked you _four_ _times_ what was wrong!"

"You were way out of line, that's what was wrong!" His eyes were blazing, his teeth gritting together in an attempt not to yell. "The Duke of Haglen made one little comment about the new restrictions on fishing—"

"He said sea creatures are insignificant when compared to humans!"

"—and you got into an argument with him!"

"I just told him that maybe he'd want to watch his words better next time, otherwise I'd make sure that _he's_ on the receiving end of a hook, suffocating to death!"

"Then you told him if he had a problem, he could take it up with your father, the Sea King!" Eric replied, now exasperated.

She lifted her chin in defiance. "Well Daddy would set him straight all right!"

"So what, if someone disagrees with you you're going to bully them? Is that it?"

"Those are my friends he was talking about!" Her voice had risen now, defensiveness creeping into her tone as she realized he had a fair point, but she was not willing to let this go so easily.

"They're fish, Ariel! That's it, just _fish_!" His own voice rose as well to meet hers.

"How _dare_ you—!"

"And while we're on the subject, some great friends to not want to visit you, or even write a letter!" He declared, now wheedling his statements around in an attempt to hurt her. "Oh, wait, I'm sorry, I forgot that it must be hard to write with only _fins_!"

She stood her ground, eyes on fire with untold anger. "You're just jealous that I got to experience an amazing childhood and do as I pleased while you were holed up in this dingy palace!"

"Oh, yes, really jealous," he scoffed, holding no merit to her words, though they dug deep under his skin. "Tell me again how _amazing_ it was to know that you were number seven, the most irrelevant of your sisters if there ever was one!"

"You leave my sisters out of this!" She shrieked, her temper lashing out at him like a whip. "You think you're so special, Prince Eric saved poor little Ariel from a terrible sea witch, and then married the sad little mermaid for three whole months; well, fine, keep your dumb story! Tell the whole world for all I care! You and I both know that _you_ need _me_ if you ever want to get your stupid crown, and you can tell _that_ to everyone still out there when they ask why I refused to come back!"

Without so much as a parting glance, she turned on her heel, leaving him momentarily stunned. It wasn't until she slammed the door behind her that he snapped out of it.

His fists balled up beside him, as he yelled at the door, "Well, fine, be that way! Just run away from your problems, that seems to be the only thing you _can_ do!"

The door reopened so fast that he barely had time to dodge a shoe thrown at his shoulder. He straightened up, jeering, "Ha! You missed—"

The other shoe hit him squarely in the head. He stumbled back a few steps, eyes wide in shock more than pain. With a satisfied 'hmph' he heard her slam the door again, her footfalls echoing in the opposite direction of the dining room.

He stayed in the portrait gallery for a few more minutes, trying to calm down enough. He didn't feel that the skin has split on his head, so that was good, although it would probably leave a bit of a bump. Their first marital spat, and it could not have gone worse.

In a moment of spiteful immaturity, he kicked one of her shoes so hard that it hit the opposite wall, the heel cracking in the process.

Somehow, it didn't make him feel any better to know that he'd broken it.

He straightened out his uniform, and pushed back his hair. Right, he had to go back out. He'd just explain that Ariel was under the weather, and had retired for the night. What was she suffering from? A bad case of stubbornness, that's what he'd say if they pressed.

Just as he made up his mind and had the excuse settled, there was a tentative knock on the door. For a moment, he thought it was her, realizing that she'd made a mistake and had come back. He crossed his arms over his chest, smirking at the idea.

"Yes?" He asked, his tone already gloating.

Slowly the door opened, but it wasn't Ariel; instead it was a male servant, cautiously saying from the safety of the doorway, "Pardon, Your Highness, but we…ah…that is to say, the staff thought you'd like to know that…er…loud voices tend to carry on this side of the palace, because the old stone walls are a bit…well, noises tend to bounce off them."

For a moment, Eric's brows furrowed. Then, as something clicked into place, his arms fell down to his sides, his face paling at the thought. "You mean…everyone in the dining room just heard that?"

The servant nodded slowly, wide-eyed and swallowing hard, as he had been the one to draw the short straw and had to inform the prince. The staff may be loyal to him, and not want to send him out there without a clue, but that wasn't to say they enjoyed giving out bad news either.

Eric let his face fall into the palms of his hands. Then, he muttered out a string of profanity so vile even the servant had to blush.

* * *

That fight had barely been a week before, Eric thought, listening to the steady sounds of clip-clopping coming from the horse. They'd gotten over it pretty quickly, both apologizing with rushed tones about how they hadn't meant what they'd said, it had just been meant to hurt the other in a moment of anger. Then, they'd made up in a way that had been proving to be very…practical.

Yes, he thought with a chuckle, practical seemed like a good enough word to use.

In any case, however, all those memories had led to this moment, where he was leaning comfortably against the carriage wall, his wife still asleep atop him, and his fingers still mindlessly stroking her shoulder.

It had been a surprise, something he'd managed to keep under wraps for the past two days, although she'd been quite suspicious.

* * *

All she'd known was that it would be a night out, but other than that she'd been left in the dark.

"Sir, the carriage is ready to leave whenever you are," a guard said, bowing in respect as he came up on the prince.

Eric nodded, acknowledging that he'd heard, before looking towards the beautiful entrance hall staircase. Clearly, by the pensive look on his face, he was not thinking of tonight, but rather something more serious. The guard left him to his thoughts, turning on his heel, back to his post.

Absently, Eric straightened out his naval uniform, trying to smooth away wrinkles that were not there. His hand slipped into his pocket, fiddling with the pocket watches chain. He frowned, taking his hand out and pushing back his dark hair.

So wrapped up in his fidgeting, he did not notice the soft padding of four paws upon the marble. It wasn't until Max had sidled up to him; bumping against his leg with a whine did the prince look down, clearly agitated.

"I've got a lot on my mind, boy, I don't have time to play," he said, referring to the ball currently being held between sheepdog's teeth. The dog whined again, this time dropping the ball at his feet. "No, Max."

The dog put his head at the base of his master's feet, next to the ball, looking up at him with the saddest eyes he could muster, whining for a third time. Eric could feel his resolve waning.

It took another minute of staring one another down, but Eric finally gave a defeated sigh, leaning down to pick up the ball. "Fine, you win, but don't go smashing into anyone, alright?"

Max jumped up to his feet, panting in excitement, his tail wagging back and forth. Eric tested the ball with agonizing slowness, tossing it up in the air once or twice, even pretending to inspect in. Just when the dog looked like he would explode from happiness, his master threw it as hard as he could out of the entrance hall.

A loud crash followed.

With Max chasing after it as fast as his four legs could carry him.

"I heard that," a very amused voice said from the top of the staircase. "I hope you haven't gone and broken another priceless antique, Carlotta will be very put out, you know."

He looked up, ready with a quick remark, but it fell short when he saw her. She was wearing a gown he'd never seen, strapless so that the expanse of her shoulders could be shown, and a bodice that cinched her small waist, before billowing out in layers of fabric, all different shades of blue. Her long red hair had been left loose for the occasion, sweeping over her shoulders. The only piece of jewelry she wore was a simple, but brilliant diamond necklace.

In all, she looked _radiant_.

His throat was suddenly very tight. "That's…I haven't seen that dress before."

"It took so long to be made, I think I was supposed to save it for next week but…" she gave a helpless shrug, gripping the bannister tightly as she descended. "Do you like it?"

"I… _yes_!" He declared quickly, rushing over to extend a hand. She graciously took it as soon as she was close enough. He softened his voice at her mildly surprised look. "Yes, of course I do. You look…stunning."

She blushed at the compliment. "You always say that."

"Because you always seem to look so effortlessly beautiful," he reminded her, planting a kiss on her violently red cheek the second she stepped onto the marble floor.

"Do I?" She asked, batting her lashes slowly, and taking just a half step closer so to him. "Beautiful enough for you to tell me what this surprise is?"

"Um…" he managed, swallowing hard to keep his wits about him when she looked at him like _that_. "It was…er…"

A sudden bark and the scattering of paws across the marble floor was enough for the spell to be broken. Ariel stepped away from him immediately, gasping in delight as she spotted the dog.

"Max!" She said, laughing as the sheepdog skidded to a rather uneven stop in front of her, letting go of his ball in the process. She dropped to her knees, not caring about the dress, and proceeded to scratch behind his ears.

"You're going to smell like a mutt," Eric warned, but with amusement, watching how devoted his wife was to the pet.

Ariel looked up at him, blinking as though the thought hadn't occurred to her, before returning her attention back to Max, who was currently laid out on his back, clearly asking for a belly rub. "Oh, he doesn't smell _that_ bad."

"Uh-huh, that's what you think; _I'm_ the one who's got to be sharing a carriage with you," he answered, leaning down to pick up the slobbery ball.

"You make it sound so awful," she said, making a face up at him, before turning what was left of her nails to the dog's stomach. "Remember, this _was_ your idea. Besides, Max deserves some extra attention, he's _such_ a good boy!"

"And he'll be here when we get back, I promise, he'll probably be sprawled out across the bed," Eric said pointedly. "We've got to get going anyway."

Ariel frowned, and he could see her debating the matter in her mind. Finally, the curiosity of what the surprise could be seemed to have a stronger pull, and she stood up, brushing away any fur that may have gathered on her dress.

"Can you at least tell me how far we're going?"

He grinned, shaking his head. "Not a chance I'm falling for that, don't think I haven't seen you pouring over maps of the kingdom the past few days."

Her face colored again in embarrassment. "You were spying on me!"

"It's not really spying when you're doing so in my study, is it?" He asked, his smile widening to include his dimples. He held up the ball, raising an eyebrow as he wondered, "Would you like to do the honors?"

She gave him a suspicious look, but took the ball anyway. Max noticed immediately, rolling back onto his feet. He barked in excitement, jumping back and forth.

Unlike her husband, she didn't feel the need to prolong the dog's wait. She swung her arm back and threw the ball as hard as she could, watching as it whistled out of view. Even Eric seemed impressed with the arch it took, his eyes following it, and Max, until he could no more.

"Nice shot," he said with clear appreciation.

She smiled at him, but there was a clear mischievous glint in her eyes. "Don't you mean, 'good job not managing to break anything'?"

He quirked a brow. "There's no proof that my throw broke anything."

As though if on cue, a familiar voice carried over into the entrance hall. "…in the world was this broken?! Who in their right mind would have knocked this down?! There are shards _everywhere_!"

Eric immediately winced. Surely the housekeeper was not going to be happy when she found out it was his fault (and she _always_ found out). In fact, the sooner he left, and later he returned, probably the better at this point.

"We're going to be late," he said quickly, almost nervously. He grabbed her hand, leading her to the doors that would open out to the courtyard in a bit of a rush.

Ariel merely laughed. "So the surprise is timed? What happens if — thank you," she accepted her cloak from a maid who was standing near the doors; the young woman curtseyed in response, " — if we don't make it on time? Will it – help me with my cloak? – start without us?"

"If I told you that, I would be giving too much away," he answered, fingers deftly pulling the thick material around her exposed shoulders, before clasping it under her throat. It was already dusk out, and the fall weather had been nippy this year. "But I will give you a hint."

"Really?" She couldn't keep the edge of excitement out of her voice at the notion, bracing herself against the cold as the doors were opened for them. She shuddered slightly at the weather, folding her arms together in an attempt to keep warm as she walked the few steps to the awaiting coach. "What is it? What's my hint?"

"Well, it's," he paused for a moment, to help her into the carriage, and to think of something vague enough to keep her off the trail. "It's something you've seen before."

She pouted immediately, and he chuckled as he entered in behind her, facing across her. The door was closed behind him, and he could hear the sounds of the horses growing restless.

"That's not a very good clue," she declared, pulling a sour face. "I've seen a lot of human things by now."

"I'm trying to keep it as a surprise, Ariel, I don't want to ruin everything when we're on our way!" He answered, grinning at the look she sent him.

"Alright, fine then, you win," she sighed, clearly giving up when she realized he would not be giving her much else. Instead, she decided to switch the subject, having latched onto something else that had piqued her interest. "What were you thinking about, before I came down?"

"Huh?" The carriage started moving, but Eric, looking rather confused, didn't seem to notice.

"I was watching you from the top of the stairs, before, you seemed…worried."

"It's nothing important, darling," he answered immediately, his go to response to avoid having to speak on the subject. She reached over, grabbing his hand, concern marking her eyes.

"Then tell me what's wrong," she responded, biting her bottom lip.

He grimaced and looked away; he hated when she troubled herself over his nuances. "I was thinking about next week."

"You've got everything memorized, you shouldn't be so nervous about it," she pointed out quickly. "You're going to do great."

His grimace turned into a frown. "I'm not worried about that part."

"Okay…then what's bothering you?" When, after a moment, she received no response, she blew her bangs away from her eyes in frustration. "Eric, you've been agonizing over something about the coronation for weeks, and every time I ask about it, you just clam up and don't want to talk."

"Aren't you nervous, even a little bit?" He questioned, clearly trying to avoid talking about himself as he disentangled her hands from his. "After all, I'm not the only one…"

Ariel snorted, throwing her shoulders back so that she could now look away, towards the window. "I was never supposed to be in charge; that was always Attina's job. I'll be the youngest queen to ever be crowned, and as a _human_ , in — no offense — a country that is still trying to adjust to the fact that a few months ago I was a mermaid. I'm not nervous, I'm _terrified_."

"But the past couple of weeks, planning everything, sending out invitations, memorizing your own part, you've seemed so…confident," he answered, suddenly leaning forward on his knees.

"If you didn't keep avoiding this conversation, you'd have known awhile ago that planning for it and memorizing a few lines is not the part that scares me. It's what comes after, the responsibility, the discipline, the total commitment…it's a lot," she said, rebuking him slightly.

They both stayed quiet for a bit, letting her words hang in the air. She raised a hand to her mouth, chewing on what was left of her nails absently. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't break the habit.

At length, he finally said, "I'm still sorry, you know. I didn't mean to force you into this."

She looked at him sharply, and he found himself swallowing hard under her gaze. "No one "forced" me into anything. I promised in our wedding vows that I would love, respect, honor, and care for you in sorrow and in joy, in hardship and in ease. If hadn't thought I could do that, I wouldn't have married you in the first place."

"You know what I mean though," he said, pressing the issue. "If I could have avoided it somehow, if we could just run off, if—"

"If you had the choice, you still wouldn't do it," she answered, firmly. "You're dedicated to this country, these people, and you're going to make a great king. I'm sure of it."

"You were sure that forks were called dingelhoppers," he deadpanned, raising a brow as though questioning her.

"Well, how was I supposed to know? Scuttle was _so_ positive of it too…" She let her thoughts trail off, but only for a moment, as she focused her distant gaze back on him. "Either way, it doesn't really matter. You need to stop doubting yourself, you've been running the kingdom on your own for nearly four years now. Being crowned won't change anything, really, it's more of a formality at this point."

"I had help, though," he argued, shaking his head. "I mean, Grim was always right there, and having my father's council answering my endless questions didn't hurt."

"That's not going to change," she answered, her brows drawing low in concern. "You're _always_ going to have people there to help. Now you get to choose a new council, and Grimsby is only a letter away — although, he may be home most of the time, but I doubt he'd turn down an invitation to be apart of this, you know he'd probably love nothing more than to say he's been apart of _two_ royal councils — and, well, I'm here too. You're never going to be alone in this."

"It's going to be different, for us, though. People are going to start…expecting us to do things by the book," he answered, thinking about the new stresses such a role would bring upon his married life.

"'By the book'?"

"A certain way," he tried rephrasing. "You know, very proper, being suitable, all that."

She laughed, the sound odd in the seriousness of their conversation. "Eric, _when_ have we ever done things in a correct, society standards way?"

Despite himself, he managed to crack a grin, her good humor infectious. "Not once."

"And the waves are still rolling, aren't they?" She waited for him to nod before continuing on. "So then everything will work out. We may not do things "by the book", but we'll do it our own way, and we'll _make_ it okay."

"You're incredible, do you know that?" He asked softly, taken aback by her faith in him. "Honestly. You know how much I love you, right?"

She smiled bashfully, suddenly ducking her head in embarrassment at the compliments. "I think I might like you too."

His brows shot up, and he made a show of cupping his ear, as though he hadn't heard. "I'm sorry, did you just say you _might_?"

"I'm still upset that you haven't told me what this surprise is," she said airily, by way of explanation.

"Oh no," he feigned shock, but the mischievous spark in his eyes put her on alert. "Well, I can't tell you about your surprise, but I can improve your mood towards me."

Her cheeks colored as red as her hair, though it was hidden by the ever darkening evening sky. "What did you have in mind?"

He said nothing, only grinned even wider to let his dimples show. She felt her face flush even further, holding back a squeak at the idea. She tried to hold some semblance of propriety as she smoothed her face away, though the red in her cheeks stayed put.

"Really? In a moving carriage? You're a barbarian."

"No, I'm your husband," he laughed. "But, if you _want_ me to be a barbarian…"

She gave him a flat, un-amused stare. "Not in this dress, Eric. I just got chewed out by the seamstress yesterday because _another_ one of my dresses has a tear in it."

"I did tell you to stop wearing things that were complicated."

"And _I'm_ telling you that soon she's not going to believe that I'm _that_ clumsy, and when she realizes it, I'm sending her straight to you to get a lecture on "how a future queen should be acting"!"

"Do you think when she's lecturing me I should bring up the fact that your clothes take twice as long to take off?"

Her eyes went wide. "Don't you dare!"

* * *

Every bit of working out the finer details and waiting to tell her paid off, he mused, when they reached the opera house. She, of course, hadn't known that the royal family were patrons of the arts, and had box seats to all shows therein. While his parents, nor he, had ever taken an interest in seeing anything, a conversation with Ariel early on, before they were married, about a girl with two-tales dancing along the dock on her toes had sparked a return.

And when the ballet opened, the moment she gasped and grasped his hand was worth it.

She'd twirled all the way back to the carriage, he remembered, smiling down at the top of her head just thinking how many times he'd caught her. She'd never be a ballerina, but he would settle for seeing her smile dazzle up the room anytime instead.

His thoughts turned, however, from the lightness of the night to the seriousness of the next week. He would finally be crowned, and so would she. A King and Queen. Would nights like this still exist when he—they, when they took on the full responsibilities of ruling?

He sighed, not for the first time since the date had been officially set. Ariel would make a great queen; even though she was young, and hadn't been in his life for very long, she was well loved already by the kingdom. She had this way with people; they seemed to just naturally gravitate towards her positive energy.

Not to mention her refusal to acknowledge that he could fail.

He sighed again, and looked out the window.

It was times like these he thought of his father.

They'd never been close, with Eric rarely seeing the man, but still. People said he was a fair ruler. No one had outright despised him. He'd done a pretty decent job running the kingdom.

And yet…

Eric wanted to be _more_ than just "decent". He wanted to make his country proud, make _Ariel_ proud. He knew his faults were many, but he also knew the hardworking people that made up his kingdom deserved better than just average.

He only hoped he could deliver that to them.

The carriage rolled to a slow stop.

Eric blinked, realizing that though he'd been looking out the window, he hadn't been paying attention. He could now see the soft lantern lights that illuminated the large wooden doors, and could make out, in the distance, palace guards looking out.

With a cry of, "Open the gates!" they were moving again.

He looked down at his wife, who was still fast asleep. He brushed her bangs back, exposing more of her slightly upturned face. Then, he shook her shoulder slightly.

"Darling," he yawned, suddenly feeling a wave of tiredness creeping upon him. "We're home."

She mumbled something unintelligible, turning away from the cracks of light spilling through. The carriage rolled to a stop again, and this time more light came in. Ariel groaned, throwing an arm over her face and curling tighter beneath her cloak-turned-blanket.

"Hey, come on," he urged quietly, hearing the coachman disembark. "You can sleep upstairs."

The door to their carriage opened, and Eric winced at the obscene amount of light that blasted through. Or maybe it just seemed that way because he'd become so accustomed to the darkness. Either way, Ariel's high-pitched squeal was exactly how he felt.

She turned her body so that she was looking up at him, her eyes bleary, and pitiful. "Carry me?"

"What, and not let you put those legs to good use?" He teased, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Come on, lazy-bones."

Her moan of absolute pain made it sound like he was physically hurting her. "Please?"

He hesitated. He had a feeling if he said no, she would stubbornly decide to sleep in the carriage all night. She really was not in the mood to walk.

Finally, he gave a defeated sigh.

"Alright, fine, but you're not going to get special treatment every time we go out," he said, while snaking one arm behind her back, and then twisting her so that he could move the other beneath her knees.

"Mhm," she mumbled in response, turning closer into him.

Carefully, he descended the carriage step, before finally stepping on solid ground. He nodded as the coachman bowed, heading into the palace. The doors opened, and he shot a grateful look to the guardsmen for that.

Candles, which were all lit, casted shadows over the long hallways and empty rooms. He passed by more guards on their nightly patrols, many of them bowing or giving him a respectful nod as he walked by.

He weaved his way through different turns and stairs until finally reaching the double doors that led to their royal apartment. It took some finagling with the handle, because his hands were full, but finally he managed to open the door. Using his foot, he shut it behind him too.

It took a few more steps to get to their bed, passing what had been a antechamber in decades past, before the custom had fallen out of practice. Thankfully, the wall and subsequent door that once separated the bedroom from the antiquated chamber had been knocked down years before too — by his mother, most ironically, since she had never spent a night in the suite.

Finally, he set her back on her feet, which, now he realized with a smile, had no shoes on. "Are you awake enough to make it to your dressing room without falling?"

She grunted by way of response. She was awake, but just barely. Through bleary eyes she managed to walk in somewhat of a straight line towards the door that separated the two rooms.

Eric chuckled, shaking his head at her. He carefully removed his sword, even though it was in its scabbard, and laid it flat on top of a dresser. It was a fine piece of craftsmanship, made to his exact specifications, and he made sure to treat it as such. Rolling his shoulders back, he yawned, undressing with much less care than he'd treated the rapier.

He was almost ready getting ready when he heard soft footsteps across the marble floor, and a loud crash into the large bed.

He looked over in faint amusement, seeing that his wife was sprawled across her side of the bed, wearing a light purple nightgown. Her less-than-graceful clatter did not, however, seem to affect Max, who was fast asleep at the foot of the bed. Yet, even though he'd expected her to be in the same state, her eyes were open, tinged with exhaustion, but open, and watching him.

He slipped into bed himself, and immediately she curled into him. She breathed in his scent, loving the way he always smelled of wood and salt, her perfect sailor. He wrapped an arm around her, holding her there against his bare chest, quietly enjoying the moment.

She looked up at him, clearly having woken up a bit since she'd changed into her nightgown. "It was a great night."

"I'm glad you enjoyed your surprise," he answered with a dimpled smile, which turned into a frown when he felt her shake her head against him. "I thought you loved the ballet?"

"I did," she said softly, tracing the planes of his muscles with the tips of her fingers. He rarely wore a shirt to sleep; he said it wasn't the norm on land, but after hot nights below decks, he couldn't shake the habit. "But it was wonderful spending it with you."

His smile returned immediately. "You're a hopeless flatterer."

"I know," she responded, lifting her head so that she could plant a kiss against his lips, before settling back against her pillow. "I think I might like you more now. Maybe I even love you."

"Then tonight was a complete success," he answered, content to stay like this forever.

She was silent for a moment, focused now on tracing nonsense patterns against him, before saying, with a bit of uncertainty in her voice, "Do you know why I know you'll be a great king?"

The question caught him off guard; he had thought they were done with the subject. "No, why?"

"Because," here she yawned, clearly still tired, "Because you care. And Daddy always said the best kind of man would care, not just about me, but about everyone and every _thing_ else."

He blinked. "That is…wow."

Shyly, she said nothing else, but rested her head against him. It was still unnerving to think that a few short months ago she'd faced the most stressful, and downright dangerous three days of her life just to get to this point. Yet, she knew she'd do it again, in a heartbeat, if it meant more moments like this.

"Hey," he nudged her slightly, and she looked up wonderingly. "How tired are you?"

There was no note of mischief in his voice, no coy implications, no insinuations. It was just a simple question, and Ariel found herself curious as to the outcome.

"I can stay up a bit longer."

"Remember last week, when you told me making kelp cookies and chocolate chip cookies wasn't _completely_ different?"

Her brows drew low as she faintly recalled the conversation. What was he playing at? "Yes?"

"…on a scale of one through ten, if I hypothetically asked if you were in the mood for warm cookies, what would your answer be?"

"That depends," she answered, lifting herself up on an elbow to survey him.

His hands went behind his head, trying to act neutral, but failing miserably as his grin showed through. "Oh?"

She smiled. "Carry me downstairs?"


	2. Snow Doubt

_Hi all! Another very loooong chapter. I've been thinking about this idea since I got snowed in during a January storm, and it took awhile, but here it is. Again, if you have any recommendations or ideas of your own for these vignettes and drabbles, drop me a pm or a review, I promise to listen!_

 _Some notes: The book 'Civil Goat Milking: Practices and Procedures' does not exist, as far as I am aware. Sorry to get anyone's hopes up._

 _-Converse r life_

* * *

The moment Ariel read about snow, she was convinced _this_ would be the year it would happen.

Never mind that everyone else kept trying to persuade her otherwise.

Carlotta said, "Hon, no matter how hard you want it, you can't force nature."

Grimsby said, "While it's not _impossible_ , it's not practical; we are simply too far south to receive the northern winds that would bring low enough temperatures."

Most of the maids, footmen, butlers, and rest of the palace staff said, "Even if it doesn't, we usually receive a fair bit of chill, your majesty; perhaps the pond will ice over so you can skate!"

Attina, looking somewhere between perplexed and horrified after she'd explained, said, "Frozen rain that shuts down the village? Why would _anyone_ wish for that?"

Sebastian, after being rescued from yet another kitchen nightmare, said, "Humans! Dey _say_ dere making fire to be warm, but it's just another trick to eat a poor old crab! If it gets colder dey will make more of dose fires and I'm not as nimble as I once was, girl!"

Scuttle said, "I once saw snow! It was all the way out there, on an island way down, in the middle of the ocean! Boy, you should've seen it, all green, with flowers bigger than your face!"

Flounder wrinkled his yellow nose and said, "Uh, is that safe? Doesn't sound like chunks falling out of the sky is a good thing."

The baker said, "Begging your pardon, ma'am, but it's not something I'd look forward too; as it is, the streets are hard enough to manage!"

Most of the schoolchildren said, "It'll never snow, not here! My mother said so!"

The Lords and Ladies, Dukes and Duchesses, Earls, Viscounts, and every other member of nobility said, "Snowfall is such a nuisance; it gets far too cold to do anything reasonable."

Max didn't say anything, expect whine when she took too long to toss him a treat.

Even Eric, who usually never took shots at her unfaltering optimism, said, "It's just not in the cards, Ariel. The last time it snowed I was very young – and even then, it was just a little frost on the ground that was melted by midday."

Surrounded on all sides by negativity, one would think the princess would have given up on the idea. After all, if everyone told her it wouldn't happen, or that it sounded like a bad plan, why shouldn't she just forget about it?

That, however, was not in her nature.

So after a night so cold that they'd had to skip their nighttime ritual of stargazing and ball throwing outside with Max, Ariel said, "It's going to snow tonight. I just know it."

Eric looked up from the paperwork he'd been shifting through, raising a brow. "And how do you know that?"

Ariel shrugged, evenly brushing out her long red hair. "I don't, not really. I just have this feeling that it'll happen."

"I wouldn't put much stock into it," he answered, looking back down absently at the papers spread across his lap. "You're just going to wake up disappointed."

"Don't be so sure," she warned, looking at him through her vanity mirror. "You could be pleasantly surprised."

Eric looked up again, frowning from his seat on the chaise in her dressing room. "Do you know something I don't? Did you ask your father for a favor to prove me wrong?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she replied, snorting at the absurdity. "I haven't seen Daddy in forever, you know he's still not very comfortable with coming to the surface. Although, I _did_ see Attina earlier."

"How is she?"

"I think I may have turned her off from the idea of snow forever," Ariel pursed her lips in the mirror, thinking. "I also managed to get it out of her that she's been seeing someone."

"Is it serious?" Eric wondered, having heard from his wife before about her sisters and the many mermen they seemed to juggle. "You've never mentioned that she's attached to somebody."

Ariel shook her head. "That's because she _doesn't_ get attached. She's too practical to have any fun."

"Oh, come on, she's fun," Eric tried, but his voice failed him on the last note. Ariel's oldest sister was her opposite in personality, much more thoughtful and much _less_ carefree, and the incredulous look his wife gave him said so. "Well, I mean, she's got a lot on her plate. You know, six younger sisters, overprotective father, kingdom to one day run and all that."

"True," Ariel acknowledged, brushing over a stubborn knot with a grimace. "And I think there was also something that happened when she was sixteen — a party or something? — that she got caught attending with a boy and it was all over the tabloids. I think that's why she's so careful with whatever she does."

"Was it bad?" Eric wondered, puzzled at the thought. Attina didn't strike him, in their few meetings, as the type to do anything worthy enough for gossipers to be entertained.

Ariel made a face in the mirror, trying to recall, but ultimately giving up. "You know, I really don't remember. I didn't pay much attention, I was ten and had an ocean that needed to be explored."

"Hm. Either way," he continued, curious now, "do you know _who_ she's seeing?"

"I think so," Ariel replied. "She mentioned his name, and I somewhat remember him from school; I think he was in her class? I don't think they got along very well back then, though."

"So what, you think now that they're older things have changed?"

"I suppose so," she responded casually, watching as he finally set aside his paperwork and stood. "I mean, stranger things have happened."

"That's true," he answered, stretching out his back. "You know, I once heard a story that there was some mermaid who rescued a human from drowning."

Ariel smiled, but decided to play along. "Oh? What happened?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure, but I think the mermaid ended up marrying that human. They say she was very pretty."

She rolled her eyes, placing the brush down and turning slightly to look at him. "What a shame for her, I heard _he_ was pretty ugly."

"Must've been a different story you heard, then."

"No, I'm pretty sure it's the same one," she replied cheekily. "The mermaid was beautiful, and the human was rather hairy, and a little slobbery too."

"Okay," he laughed, placing his hands on her shoulders, and leaning down to press a kiss against her cheek. "Slobbery I'll admit to, but hairy? Darling, we both know who wins that one."

One hand stayed on her shoulder, while the other's fingers started to twist through her long locks, finding it easy to do so now that her hair was smooth. She quickly swatted his hand away with a gasp.

"Stop it!" She cried out in horror. "I just spent the past twenty minutes brushing it out!"

He relented, and she gathered her hair close to her, giving him a sour look as she smoothed it back down. His smile widened, showing his dimples. She looked away, focusing once more on her hair, because it was hard to stay mad when he looked like that.

She separated it all into three sections, and with practiced fingers started to intertwine each. The first plait in her hair was done when she heard him sigh. She looked up, seeing his dejected expression in the mirror.

"What's wrong?"

"I like your hair loose," he answered, almost frowning. She gave him a skeptical look, continuing on with what she had started.

"You've _seen_ my hair in the morning when I don't braid it, you can't honestly say that."

"I can, and I do," he replied stubbornly. "I don't know, it looks more…you."

"If I don't put it in a braid, it gets so hard to brush out that I'll have to wash it first thing when I wake up," she tried to explain, pausing her fingers for a moment to level with him. "That means I'll have to wake up even _earlier_ to take a bath."

"Hm. In that case, I can promise to keep you up all night, so that you never have to wake up." He raised a brow suggestively, eyes alight with a certain sense of mischief. His meaning was clear, and she rolled her eyes, refusing to answer him and instead continuing to braid her hair.

He gave a dramatic sigh. "Oh, come on. I'm willing to compromise; why aren't you?"

"I'd hardly call _that_ a compromise."

"It benefits both parties involved, what's so wrong with it?" He asked cheekily, and despite the annoyed curve of her lips, he could tell she was pressing back laughter.

She smoothed her features, getting to the end of her long hair now. "Why don't we try a different compromise, one that won't make _both_ of us skip tomorrow morning?"

"What did you have in mind?" He wondered curiously.

"Why don't we make a bet out of it?" She watched him perk up at that, and she grinned. "If it _doesn't_ snow tomorrow, I'll leave my hair loose every night for a week."

"What about a year?" He countered, ice blue eyes glinting now.

"Two days."

"A week then," he quickly agreed, realizing this was a losing battle. "And not that I'm admitting it will happen, but if it _does_ snow and you win?"

She pursed her lips, twisting a hair band around her now finished braid. "I want the University to open to women."

"You're still on that?" Eric made a face, and she turned to look at him straight on for the first time in this conversation. "I already told you, the council doesn't think it's a very good idea."

"They also don't trust me to be involved in the running of this kingdom," she huffed, a bitter edge to her words. "But sitting around hosting tea parties and listening to gossip isn't what I want to do."

Eric shifted, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck and mumbling, without meeting her eyes, "It's not that they don't _trust_ you. It's that…uh…I've been doing this since I was fourteen. Things have to be…adjusted, now, with you."

"How long is that going to take though?" Her voice rose with frustration. "We've been married for _months_ , I was crowned _weeks_ ago, and they _still_ treat me like...like my father did!"

He shrugged, lifting his gaze to look at her. "Well, you _are_ only sixteen."

Immediately, he regretted it.

Her face dropped, frustration turning into an cold glare quickly. "And _why_ is that such a problem?"

"It's not," he assured, trying to sidestep the inevitable argument. " _I_ don't think it is at least."

"Wait a second…is that the reason why they don't take me seriously? Because I'm young?" Her eyes widened as she pieced the information together, and Eric's eyes dropped back to the floor.

"Um…"

"I'm only a year and a half younger than _you_ are!" She argued, affronted at the notion. "That's practically nothing! And I'll be seventeen in a week!"

"It's not only your age," he sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. "You've said yourself that this was never something you planned."

"So what?" She demanded, eyes boring into his. "You think I should simply host parties because that's all I'm apparently good at, too?"

"I never said that," he answered sharply. "I only meant…ah, _shit_ , Ariel, it's because they don't know what you _can_ do."

She made a face at his swearing, and he shook his head, muttering a half-hearted 'sorry'. Sometimes the sailor in him came out a bit too strongly, and she'd been quick to pick up on his nuances.

"Then let me open the University to women," she pleaded, the argumentative edge gone from her voice now. "Let me show everyone that I can _do_ this, that I'm not just some girl on your arm."

He sighed again. He didn't want to tell her that his counselors would never approve. He didn't want to tell her that the old windbags at the University would fight her tooth and nail. He didn't want to tell her that it was a lost cause.

Instead, he said, "Let's see tomorrow, okay? The bet's still on, isn't it? If it snows you can try to open the University to women."

"And…if it doesn't?" She wondered, doubting herself for a second.

"If it doesn't then…then we'll find a new way for you to feel more involved," he responded, waiting for a beat, and adding, "I promise."

She gave him a weak smile. It wasn't the answer she was looking for, and it was disheartening that he didn't seem to understand her predicament, but it was getting late and she didn't want to fight. She could wait to see what the future held in store.

"Tomorrow then," she finally agreed, nodding, and rolling back her shoulders with a yawn. "I'm going to bed. I'm sure Max is already asleep."

"Let me look over that paperwork one more time, I'll be in soon," Eric said by way of answer, giving her a hand up.

She swung her long braid behind her once she was standing, yawning again, and walking to the adjoining door that led to their bedroom. She paused at the doorframe, turning to him and leaning against it with a frown. "Will you be long?"

He smiled at the light concern in her voice, and the way the roaring fire seemed to make her hair brighter. "I'll be just a minute."

She nodded, satisfied with his answer, and spun back around into their room. The door stayed open behind her, a clear sign that she would be holding him to his word. He went back to the chaise, gathering the papers in a neat stack. However, he couldn't focus on them, and instead his attention was taken more with the window.

He eyed it with some curiosity. It was too dark to see anything, especially where he was standing. Still, if he focused, he could hear the sound of the waves, and the wind outside. It had to be _very_ cold if the fireplace in their bedroom _and_ Ariel's dressing room were both alight…

"Ridiculous," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "It won't snow. It _can't_ snow here."

He nodded assuredly to himself, before turning on his heel to get to bed.

* * *

Sunlight streamed in from the heavy curtains being pulled back from the windows. The palace staff had been up for the past two hours, their voices high with excitement, but dropped to whispers in the residency wing, lest they wake their monarchs.

In the corner of their spacious suite, an old grandfather clock softly ticked away. How many generations it had spent in this room was unknown, but clearly time had not done it well. The wood was scuffed, the glass was scratched, and it had the oddest clicking noise every few beats originating from somewhere in its gears.

Still, despite its advanced age, at the same prompt time as always, it began to gong.

Tangled within the sheets, Eric groaned, pulling the comforter over him. He screwed his eyes shut tightly, next trying to pull a pillow over his head to drown out the noise. When he still had no such luck, he gave an impatient sigh.

He reached out of the cocoon he had concocted for himself, his hand searching for something, _anything_ heavy on his nightstand. His fingers closed around something – a book? – and he threw it in the general direction of the clock.

 _Boom!_

The noise immediately ceased. He grunted in satisfaction, and tried to get back to sleep. It took a few tries, some tossing and turning, and a heavy sigh before he gave up, finally throwing off the pillow and comforter over his head and sitting up.

He yawned, stretching out his arms, and letting his vision adjust to the overall brightness of the room. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, pushing it back, and squinted at the clock. It appeared to have survived another morning, and the time read only five minutes past.

It took a few moments to gather his thoughts, and realize that the room was _cold_. So much so in fact that the fire set the night before was now no more than ashes. He frowned; even though it was at the direct other end of the room, in what had been an antechamber before the wall separating the two rooms had been knocked down, usually it could burn well into morning.

He shook his head; he was thinking far too much into something that wasn't important. Besides, he had a day to start.

Easily, Eric looked over at the other side of the bed, smiling fondly at the image of his wife still asleep. She was curled within the sheets, hair loose from her braid framing her face. Like usual, the clock didn't even seem to have disrupted her dreams. He'd learned quickly that she was the type of sleeper who could stay in till noon if not woken up.

"Ariel," he murmured softly, fingers brushing back strands of her hair, before shaking her shoulder. "Time to wake up."

She cracked open a drowsy eye, before closing it and making a noise somewhere from the back of her throat. It sounded like if she was trying to say "no".

He chuckled tiredly. "Come on, it's morning, and if I have to be up, then you do too."

Her mouth was set in an unhappy curve. She opened both eyes for the first time that morning, slightly, seeming to glare at him. Then she purposefully rolled over.

He grinned; she was only ever a morning person on her terms. But in turning away from him the collar of one of _his_ shirts, which she had recently taken to sleeping in, had slipped down, exposing her upper arm and shoulder.

He decided he could work with that.

He hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. She gave a muffled shriek, and tried to squirm out from his grip. But he had other plans, which included setting his lips on her exposed skin.

Her wriggling stopped almost immediately. She sighed into his embrace, leaning into him. His hand that was resting on her hip fell further, and she turned on her back so that his next target could be her lips. With her eyes still closed, she felt his mouth on hers, but his kissing was different now, deepening, more intense than it had been. She figured quickly where they were heading, and couldn't seem to focus on an argument against his ministrations. Instead, she decided to kiss him back.

Until she felt Eric pull away sharply with a swear.

And a second later she felt a long tongue on her face.

"Max! Get off!" This time her shriek of surprise was _not_ muffled as she struggled to get away from the very large, very heavy dog. She shielded her face with her arms, opening her eyes and now able to see Eric grimacing and wiping off doggy drool as well. "Yes, I get it, I'm glad you're awake too, now stop! Eric, _help_!"

"I've got him," Eric responded, sitting up for the first time and wrenching the dog away with little effort. Max laid down easily in the space he'd created between the two of them, rolling onto his back to ask for belly rubs. "Are you okay?"

Ariel sat up too, giving a disgruntled look to the dog, nodding, and wiping her face with a too-big sleeve. "I'm fine, I just wasn't expecting to be covered in slobber so early."

"You didn't seem to mind mine," he responded, his grin returning when she flushed red.

"Oh, go away," she said with an embarrassed huff, looking down disapprovingly at the dog, but still reaching out what little nails she owned to rub his stomach. "He learns all his bad behavior from you."

"And you spoil him too much. We're two peas in a pod," he laughed, though Ariel tilted her head, unfamiliar with the phrase, but not in the mood to ask questions. He fell back into the pillows, both his hands going behind his head, before commenting, "You know, you fill out my shirts better than I do."

She looked up at him, smiling at his admiring gaze, and took the hand that was still scratching Max's stomach to pull up her collar, which was still hanging off her shoulder. Max whined; they both ignored him. "Can you imagine how people would react if they found out how stifling I think nightgowns _really_ are?"

Eric nodded solemnly. "The kingdom might never recover."

She sighed, coming back to the pillows and resting her head against his shoulder. "Sometimes humans have the oddest rules for such meaningless things."

"If it makes it any better," he started, his hand reaching out to take hers and run his thumb over it soothingly, "I think you should wear whatever you feel most comfortable in."

She gave him a sidelong glance, and her smile turned mischievous. "So if I wore your shirt and nothing else to dinner with Baron Hagan and his wife tomorrow, you wouldn't mind?"

Eric blanched, then recoiled. The image of his wife in the dining hall wearing only what she was in now, with the collar slipping so far down that she was nearly exposed, and the hem _barely_ reaching mid-thigh…

"Well," he started tactfully, wincing as he thought about the way every male servant would stare at her uncovered skin, "I can't say I'd be thrilled, but I also can't tell you what to do. So if that's what you _really_ wanted…"

Ariel laughed, pushing herself up slightly in order to plant a chaste kiss against his lips, before settling against him once again. "Don't be ridiculous. My dresses are too pretty to go to waste."

"Thank goodness," he muttered, with a breath of relief that made Ariel laugh. "Your legs are still mine and mine alone to ogle at."

"They are a better sight to see than a tail," she agreed, flexing her toes on both feet, as though reminding herself that this was still real. She sighed softly, changing the subject with, "Do we have to get up now?"

"We could always have breakfast sent up," he mused, considering it. "I don't have anything pressing today. We could spend the whole day in bed."

"That would be the third time this week we've had breakfast sent up," Ariel frowned, brows furrowing at the idea. "Eventually the staff is going to think something is wrong."

"Three times in a week isn't so bad."

"…it's Wednesday."

He made a face, and she laughed, reaching up to pat his cheek. "Besides, you need to shave."

"I shaved last week." He grumbled, placing his own hand over hers, before moving them away from his face. "I think I might let it grow out a bit, see what happens," he quirked a brow and suppressed a teasing grin.

Ariel sat up slightly, enough to be level with his eyes, before saying, "If you grow a beard, I'm not kissing you."

"Your father has a beard," he responded casually, still trying hard to keep the playfulness from his voice. "You kiss him, don't you?"

"The way I kiss my father and the way I kiss you are two _very_ different things." She answered in a clipped voice, obviously displeased.

"What about a little bit, just on my chin?" He wondered, unable to keep his grin down now.

She gave him a dark look. " _Nothing_. Not even a ridiculous little patch on your chin, which, by the way, is all I'm certain you _can_ grow."

He laughed, shrugging it off, and rubbed his face thoughtfully. She was right, he could feel some stubble there. "It'll all come in eventually; I _am_ only eighteen."

"I don't care if you're one-hundred and seven by the time you can actually grow a full beard, you're going to be clean shaven _forever_. That's an order." She said with finality, making sure he could see how serious her eyes were.

He put both his hands over his heart, pretending she had wounded him with wide eyes. "Imagine, this is _after_ I said you could go down to dinner in my shirt. And now you're ordering me not to grow a beard? I'm shocked, Ariel."

She felt the stiffness in her shoulders lessen. He was right, even if he was teasing; theirs was a marriage of equals. And he was an almost-grown man (she swore that he was _still_ growing, somehow or another), she couldn't very well tell him what to do with his body, and the same for her.

"Alright, maybe it's not an _order_ , but it _is_ me telling you that I really, really, _really_ would prefer you didn't. Beards make me think of Daddy," she explained, pursing her lips in thought. "I don't want to think of my father when I'm…when we're…"

She looked at him helplessly, but he stared back at her with a far too innocent look. "When we're…?"

Ariel flushed red. "Please don't make me say it."

"Say what, exactly?" He returned, grinning as she went even redder. For the oddest reason, discussing the topic always seemed to make her skittish, which is why it was even _more_ fun to do this.

She took in a deep breath, and looked at the headboard, face still a ferocious state of red. "When we're…together."

"We're newlyweds darling, we're almost always spending time together." He answered, ice blue eyes dancing as she sent him a sharp look for being purposefully dense.

She then closed her eyes, steadying her voice. "Not that kind of together, the…the other kind."

"There's another kind of together?" He wondered, holding back laughter as she opened her eyes and narrowed them at him.

"Eric, I swear if I have to say this out loud…"

"Alright, alright," he finally laughed, "I get the idea, don't make yourself uncomfortable trying to find the words. I'll go shave."

She gave a sigh of relief, the red in her face lessening. "Thank you."

He untangled himself from the sheets, climbing out of bed and stretching. "Did Max fall back asleep?"

"Hm. I think so." She answered, looking at the dog who was still on his back, but not moving. She sat up further, crossing her legs to the side of her and adjusting the shirt appropriately. "Should I wake him up to go out to the grounds?"

"That's a good idea," Eric said, nodding in agreement, before frowning. "Is it just me or do you feel cold?"

Ariel thought about it for a moment, before rolling her shoulders back and yawning. "A little. Maybe it's just because the fire is out?"

"You're probably right," he said, as she echoed his earlier thoughts. He pushed his unruly hair back, and walked towards the French doors of the balcony.

"If you don't have much to do today, we could go into town," Ariel started, undoing her braid. "I'd love to go by the sweet shop. I've had this craving for candy lately."

Eric made a noise in his throat, considering it. He pulled one of the heavy curtains aside, cringing at the bright sun. As his vision adjusted, he felt his jaw fall open, and eyes grow wide.

"Um…you might want to rethink that plan."

"What do you mean?" She asked, frowning as she finger combed her now loose hair. He didn't turn around, or answer her for that matter. "Eric? Is everything okay?"

Concerned, she crawled out of bed, pulling up the collar on the shirt again and coming to the window. She pressed a light hand against his bare, rigid back, using its twin to shield her eyes against the harsh light. It took a few seconds to get her bearings, but when she did, she gasped.

The _entire_ balcony was covered in _white_.

Pure white, like the kind her wedding dress had been, only it looked like it wasn't cloth, but something else entirely. It looked thicker than sand, but almost as fine, as though it would just pour from her fingers. The balcony railing had a good fin-stroke's worth, maybe more.

A voice in the back of her mind whispered, _snow_.

Before she realized what she was doing, she'd pushed the doors open, stepping one foot into it. It sank beneath the snow, like how her feet did beneath the waves, only it didn't leave seconds later. In fact, as she took another careful step, she realized that her feet were leaving imprints, but the kind that wouldn't be washed away.

Dazzled, she ran the rest of the length of the balcony, to the railing, and took in two handfuls of the white powder. It was colder than she'd imagined, much colder, and when she breathed out she could see the huff of air before her very eyes. The fine white powder even covered the shoreline! Laughing incredulously, she threw the snow above her head, and watched as it rained down upon her.

Realizing that her husband was still standing in their room, she turned quickly towards him, cheeks reddening with delight in the cold. "Can you believe it? Snow! You have to come out here, it's all over! Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've _ever_ seen?!"

"It's…something…" he managed to choke out, incredulous, slightly panicked, and very intrigued. This didn't _happen_ in this part of his kingdom. In the countryside every few years perhaps, but never next to the ocean!

"Isn't it just magical? I read once that it was supposed to look spectacular, and it does! I can't even _see_ the sand, I think it just completely covers everything —" she cut herself off with another gasp, an idea coming to mind. "The castle grounds!"

She tried to run back into the room, but hadn't accounted for how slick the balcony had become. She stumbled after just two steps, losing her balance, feeling Eric's fingers brushing against the shirt as he tried to reach for her, and falling at the threshold of the doors.

She groaned.

"Whoa, hey, are you alright?" Eric dropped to his knees immediately, alarm in his tone.

She sat up, feeling for anything that hurt, before realizing the stinging pain in her knee. She turned it slightly, enough to see the fresh, bloody scrape that had taken over the skin. It wasn't the first scuff she'd gotten there ( _that_ honor belonged to a fall out of a tree), but it still surprised her how fast the blood pooled. Under the sea, the water seemed to dilute her scratches, so that they never seemed as bad as they were.

She suddenly felt his fingers on her leg, turning it towards him now, light fingers probing the area to make sure she wasn't seriously injured. "Ariel? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she huffed, frustrated in herself more than anything, and pulling up the collar again. "My feet just slipped, I'm okay."

"You sure?" He wondered, extending her leg fully to check her knee. "That was a hard fall; anything else hurt?"

Ariel pushed her lips out, thoughtfully, and felt around for any other injuries. She shook her head. "I think that's it, nothing else seems wrong."

He shook his head, hands dropping to her feet to massage some blood back into them. "At least it's just a scrape and you didn't hit your head."

The warmth of his skin on hers felt like fire. She nodded in agreement before shivering, suddenly aware of the weather and how _not_ prepared she was, wrapping her arms tightly across her.

Eric noticed, frowning slightly. "It's freezing out here, let's get you back indoors."

Without waiting for a response, or asking for permission, he loped an arm beneath her legs and one under her back, lifting her easily into the air. She gave a startled gasp, but didn't fight it, instead wrapping her arms around his neck. She was glad for his gentle touch, and the worry in his grasp.

"Snow is _a lot_ colder than I thought it would be," she mused thoughtfully, as he walked to the direct opposite of the room. "I mean, I knew it had to be cold, but I didn't realize it would be _that_ cold. I think I just have to be dressed for it; what do you think?"

"To be honest, I'm still trying to wrap my head around it," he answered, thankful that the bathroom door had been left slightly ajar so that he could push it open with his foot.

It wasn't as large as the one in the Queen's Quarters, but the elegance and refinement could still be seen throughout the large space. He placed her gently on the edge of the claw-foot tub, before turning back to the cabinets in search of something.

Ariel tilted her head to the side, considering his words. "But you've seen snow before."

"But never by the castle, and never in this amount," he countered, still opening and closing cabinets with his brows furrowed. "We have a roll of bandages in here, don't we?"

"Try the leftmost corner," she suggested with a shrug. The servants had a very specific way of organizing the palace, and months later, she was _still_ trying to figure out where everything was. "You don't seem excited that it's snowed here, though."

"Found them, remind me next time that they're _middle_ left," he muttered, although it was mostly to himself. "I'm more apprehensive, than anything."

"Why though? What has you all twisted up?" There was marked concern in her tone now, and she studied him carefully, watching as he wet a wash cloth carefully now in the wash basin.

"Mhm, a bit of everything. Weather like this always brings problems, people complaining, injuries…" he trailed off, raising a brow to her as he turned back around.

Ariel flushed. "It's not _really_ an injury. It'll scab over in a week or two, you shouldn't be so," she gestured with her hand vaguely, not sure of the right words to use, "bent out of shape over me. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can, I'm just teasing," he said sincerely, coming back to her and dropping again to his knees, so that he could have better access to the scrape.

He knew better than anyone that beneath her ribbons and pearls, Ariel was tougher, and smarter, than almost anyone else. She may have been a princess, and now queen, but that didn't diminish the fact that she could go toe-to-toe with those who threatened everyone she loved.

"You said it never snows," she started, thoughtfully twirling red hair around her finger to get back to the subject at hand, "what if this is different, and there's no problems? Besides, there's not much you can do about the weather — ah!" She hissed in pain as the washcloth was brought to her knee, wincing tightly.

"Sorry," he said by way of response, trying to clean the wound as gently as possible. "I know there's nothing I can do about the weather, but I _also_ know how things work; I'll have a stack of reports by the end of the day about it."

"Well, _I'm_ going to have a better outlook. I bet everyone is going to be so thrilled that they'll forget all their issues," she replied stubbornly, watching now as he started to roll the bandage around her knee. "Can you make that a little looser?"

"That's about as likely as Carlotta not noticing your knee," he answered, snorting slightly at the idea. He deftly pulled on the cloth, loosening it just a bit as she'd requested. "But, I guess you're right. There's nothing I can do about it now, or even until the day is over; I shouldn't let this ruin your first time seeing snow."

"If she asks I'll just tell her it's your fault, that always seems to work," she laughed, if not a bit smugly from the look he gave her. "I'm glad you've decided to have a good day though. Now finish up already, I want to go outside!"

He chuckled, trying to tie up a loose end on the bandage. "So impatient. Why don't we try sledding? The hill just east of the village should be good enough, and I know there's a sled somewhere in this castle."

"Yes, absolutely, I'd love to!" She declared, and he sat back, satisfied with his work, and waiting for the inevitable question. "Er…what exactly _is_ sledding?"

He smiled, his dimples showing, before reaching up slightly to kiss her. Her heart skipped a beat. "It's a lot more fun than snow angels."

He stood, offering a hand to her, which she graciously took. He threw the washcloth and rest of the bandage roll that he hadn't used into the tub; one of the servants would find it on their cleaning rotation later and take care of it. Ariel flexed her knee, satisfied with the job he had done, and followed him out of the bathroom.

"What're snow angels, Eric?"

* * *

Two hours later, the young royals finally made it just beyond the village, to a gentle sloping hill crowded with people. Most of them were children, all of varying ages, shouting in excitement, some barely missing their friends on the way down. It was a lively atmosphere, and Ariel could barely be still, her hand anxiously running over the sled.

"Just one more loop and — done!" Eric said, tugging on the reigns to make sure the horse, and open air carriage, would still be at the hitching post at the bottom of the hill when they were finished.

He'd have preferred to just ride on horseback, much more inconspicuous that way, but since Ariel was still learning to ride like a human, and they had the sled, it was just easier this way. He looked over at his wife, noticing that her gaze was not trained on him, but rather, the children who kept running back and forth. She didn't look upset, just…entranced, by the whole scene.

He took a step towards her, and lifted the sled out from her grip. She gasped, having not even heard him, and turned slightly, her eyes bright.

"Are you finished?" She wondered, and he nodded, smiling as she brought one of her mitten covered hands to push away a stray lock of hair, and made a frustrated noise when she couldn't seem to get a hold of it.

"Here," he said, laughing as he used his own uncovered fingers to tuck her hair behind her ear, careful not to lower its hood. "Better?"

"Much, thank you," she breathed, still amazed that she could actually _see_ the huff of air. "I still don't understand why I have to wear this on my hands and _you_ don't. Actually, why did _I_ get scolded and get dragged back to get dressed all over again with _more_ clothes, and you didn't?"

"You're not used to the cold," he shrugged. " _And_ , I've had a lifetime of this; Carlotta knows telling me what to wear is a lost cause at this point. Besides, I _did_ tell you earlier that showing up to breakfast in a summer dress and saying we were going sledding was a bad idea."

"I didn't know that she would make me go back and change! I feel like a puffer fish in all these layers!" She complained, tugging at the sleeves of the thick, light green dress beneath her blue cloak.

"It can't be _that_ bad," Eric remarked mildly, though the smugness of his grin said otherwise. Wearing clothes in general was still something she was adjusting to. "Besides, Max and I spent the whole time searching for this sled anyway."

She pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. "My stockings are itchy and my shoes are tight."

"Then take them off and walk barefoot up the hill," he said dryly, eyes growing wide when he saw her brighten and look down at her booted feet. "Please don't," he hurried on to say, "that was a joke, if you lose a toe in this cold your father _will_ kill me."

""Lose a toe"?" She quoted, brows scrunching together in confusion.

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "Frostbite," he started, by way of explanation, "when your body has been exposed to the cold for too long, your fingers and toes turn black and have to be cut off."

Ariel gasped, immediately wrapping her arms tightly together, letting her fingers form fists in her mittened hands. She wiggled her toes in her boots to make certain that they were still warm, even if they were uncomfortable. She was not willing to give up any part of her hard earned feet.

"How long is too long?" She wondered, now gazing in pointed concern at his bare fingers. She tried to imagine him missing one or two, and her stomach flipped at the thought.

"Hours," he answered, quickly putting his hands behind his back when he noticed her staring. "And it has to be really, really cold, much worse than this. Probably closer to what the temperatures are like in Arendelle's tallest mountains."

She let out a huff of air, nodding now in understanding. Eric had mentioned to her before how, during a winter visit as a boy, the snow had been knee high at the base of the mountains. Ariel found the story amazing, and of course, had tried to bring it up with the king and queen when they'd come for the wedding, even though they'd seemed very reluctant to talk about winter in general.

"So you'll be fine then?" She asked finally, searching his face for the assurance that he wouldn't lose any fingers. He nodded sincerely. "You're _sure_? You could use one of my, um, hand-cover-majiggers!"

He quirked a brow. "They're called mittens. And, if I did, then we'd both still have a hand exposed. It really wouldn't be much help."

"Mittens," Ariel repeated, trying to ingrain the new word into her mind. "But, if _you_ wore one, and _I_ wore one, then we'd be less likely to lose all of our fingers!"

"Remember when I said your father would kill me if you lost a toe?" He remarked mildly, and she nodded earnestly, watching as his eyes trailed towards the hill for a moment. "The same applies if you lose any of your fingers."

Ariel eyed him for a moment, before shaking her head. "Don't be so dramatic. Daddy wouldn't kill you."

"You don't think so?" Eric asked in response, his eyes coming back to focus on her. He watched as she threw back her shoulders, determined, and grabbed her skirt in one fistful.

"Of course not," she answered flippantly, her smile mischievous now. "My sisters would get to you first, obviously."

He had barely a moment to register what she said. "Wait – "

She snatched the sled out of his hand, laughing, and calling over her shoulder as she started to run, "Last one up the hill is a guppy!"

Eric, caught off guard for just a moment, stared after her, watching as she dodged people, just barely, who were sledding down. He cringed after a very, _very_ near miss that she didn't seem to notice, his body already in motion before he had decided to catch up to her.

His longer strides, and being unhampered without the sled, allowed him to reach her in no time. He pulled her arm so that she was off the main thoroughfare, and caught her waist when she began to stumble at the jerky movement. Still, she was laughing, out of breath, but laughing as she stood with his help.

"Well, that's one way to slow me down," she said cheerily, a smile splitting across her face. "You caught up to me in no time!"

He gave her an incredulous look, still panting from the burst of adrenaline. He searched her eyes wildly; did she really not realize how close she'd been to getting hit by one of the sleds?

The smile froze on her face, and she tilted her head, brows furrowing slightly, and asking, "What's wrong?"

The tension in his shoulders dropped. He ran a hand over his face, shaking his head. He forgot quite often that she wasn't used to places where you couldn't just swim away.

"Nothing," he finally answered, sighing again. "Here, I'll carry the sled, you just...just follow me up, alright?"

"Oh. Okay!" She replied, her spirits dampened slightly by his reaction, but not enough to merit her feelings being hurt. She handed him the wooden piece, glad to not be carrying it anymore. It was light at first, but after carrying it up most of the hill, it had begun to feel heavy. "There's a lot of feet marks in the snow, have you noticed? I think there's a lot of people who are here today!"

"Footprints," he corrected, swinging the sled under his arm and grabbing her hand with the other one. "A lot of them are small though, I think it's mostly children; that's who I kept seeing at the bottom at the hill anyway."

"Oh, I wasn't paying that close attention," she remarked, shrugging, and using the already made footprints in the snow as her path up. "And they go by so fast that I can't see who's going down! Are _we_ going to go down that fast?"

"Faster, probably," he said, watching as a group of children squeezed passed both of them, running and hollering back up the hill for another go. He grinned. "If I can get us a good push off, we'll go speeding down."

"Good," Ariel replied. "I hate going slow."

He gave her a good humored look. "Oh, I know. Aquata told me she tried pinning your fins to the ocean's bottom to keep you from beating her at racing."

Ariel made a sour face, giving him a light shove. "Did your buddy Aquata _also_ tell you that if she hadn't been caught in the act, she probably would have torn half my fin off?"

"Sibling rivalry at its finest, I'd say."

"I was four, I had no rivalry with her!" Ariel gasped, though she smiled at the memory. "Just remind me that she is _not_ allowed to babysit for us. She's so competitive."

"Will do," he answered, though his merry tone was forced. He looked over at Ariel; even her grin had weakened, and the grip she had on his hand tightened.

They were still skirting around the subject of children, months into their marriage. They both knew that it wasn't a subject of "if" but rather, a subject of _when_. Every person, every paper, _everything_ had turned from his getting married, to their securing the monarchy with an heir. But they'd only talked about it briefly before they'd been wed, and the subject had been left at that. Eric wasn't sure if Ariel was ready; he knew _he_ certainly was not.

He let out a huff of air, squeezing her hand. He wasn't going to dive into this, not now. Her eyes flickered up to him, and with relief, she brought her other hand to her forehead, blocking what little rays of sun could come through the clouds, and scanning the very near top of the hill.

"It doesn't look like most people have a sled like this one," she remarked curiously, changing the subject away from her. "It looks like they're using whatever they could find!"

"I'm not surprised; remember, it _doesn't_ snow here. I don't even think it's something that's made in this part of the kingdom," Eric explained. "I'm sure everyone grabbed what they thought would slide well and is just going for it."

"How did you get this one then?" Ariel wondered, wary as she saw his shoulders stiffen.

"I think it was a wedding present," he said, though his voice changed, it was like he was straining to keep it light.

"I don't remember it as a wedding present." Ariel frowned, trying to recall the overwhelming amount of gifts they had received. "Was it from someone on the council, trying to get on our good side?"

"Ah, my mother grew up in Arendelle, as the ambassador's daughter. I think it was a gift from the country when _she_ was married," Eric said, straining to keep his voice light.

Ariel's cheeks colored. "Should we be using it then? I mean, it's part of your family history, it was your mother's, that must be important, right?"

"I found it in the corner of one of the attics covered in cobwebs years ago, I doubt she ever touched it." Eric snorted. "She wore all those jewels and tiaras that _you_ wear on a day-to-day basis too, but I don't see you wanting to give any of it up."

"…I didn't know that," she responded quietly, struggling to keep the hurt out of her voice. "I never really thought about who they actually belonged to. I could stop wearing it, if it bothers you, if it makes you think about your mother. I wouldn't care."

Eric winced, regretting the sharpness of his tone immediately. Of course she wouldn't know, she hadn't grown up in his — _their_ kingdom. She'd never met his mother. He was obviously taking out some pent up frustration on her, and that wasn't fair.

He stopped, turning slightly to her, and saying seriously, "No, don't stop wearing it. It _belongs_ to you. All of it. Every piece. I'm sorry, I'm an idiot, I didn't mean to imply that…"

Imply what? That she was only with him for the shiny things? Or that she would never have married him if she wouldn't have gotten something out of it? He knew both those reasons were wrong. He felt sick even thinking that way about her. So why had he snapped, why would he begin to imply something if he knew it wasn't true?

He hung his head, taking a deep breath. "Talking about my parents…it's still…there's a lot that goes on there. I'm sorry, I promise, don't think I meant it, even in the slightest. Wear everything at once if it makes you happy, or don't, I won't care, I know you married me for me, not for anything else, and I didn't mean to say —"

She ducked underneath his lowered head, cutting him off with a kiss. He wasn't expecting it, and he pitched his head back, nearly knocking her forehead in the process. He gave her a wide eyed look, startled.

"You were rambling," she said, by way of explanation. "And I accept your apology."

And just like that, she started walking up the few steps left of the hill, taking his hand with her. He blinked, following along dumbly.

"That's it? You don't want to talk about it?" He sounded slightly panicked, enough for Ariel to throw him a good look over her shoulder, and shrug.

This wasn't like her, not to want to discuss what had happened, and how to fix it. He wondered briefly if she _had_ hit her head this morning. He winced at the thought.

" _I_ want to go sledding," she replied, now marching them both to an open spot, now that they were at the top. Her voice lowered, though, as she added, "And we can talk about it later. This really isn't the place…"

He looked around. The hood of her cloak had fallen, displaying her bright red, and children, and the few adults who were there as well, had taken notice. He could hear the whispers as they were both starting to become recognized, and focused his gaze on her.

"Right," he nodded, suddenly very appreciative of the fact that she had taken the time to realize this was not the place for a very private conversation. His beautiful, intelligent, mermaid, always looking out for him. "Here, once I set the sled down, you get on it, alright? Then I'll push us off, and we'll go down."

"Got it!" Ariel chirped, filing away everything for when they were back in their quarters. "Set it down already, I want to go down the hill!"

"I'm making sure it won't slide down without you," he smiled, kicking the ground to pack the snow a bit. "I'm going to hold onto the back while you get on, just to make sure."

"That's fine," she answered, watching with bated breaths as he finally set the sled down, crouching at the back of it to make sure it wouldn't go anywhere. Ariel wasted no time nearly throwing herself on it, and though it lurched for a moment, Eric held it steady.

"Erm…you're going to need to scoot up further so I can have room, Ariel." He said, and she did so immediately, eager to get going. "Okay, now extend your legs out…and hold onto the sides…good."

She twisted around, fidgeting once again with eagerness, eyes expectant. "And now you'll push it?"

"And then I'll jump on," he answered, drawing the sled back just a bit and carefully letting his grip go from it. It stayed in place. "Ready?"

"Yes!"

"Count me down from three?" He asked, still smiling, his dimples showing. Ariel clutched at the sides of the sled harder, turning to face forward and nodded.

"Three," she started, hearing the snow crunch beneath his boots as he walked away.

"Two…" she heard the crunching beneath his boots stop.

"One!" She exclaimed.

The crunching beneath his boots quickened, he was running, she could hear it, and suddenly the sled was moving. It was moving quickly, faster than she would have thought the wooden thing could actually go, and she felt it sway dangerously as Eric's weight was added to it. He was holding onto her, tightly; why wasn't he holding onto the sides like he'd told her to do? But she couldn't focus on that, she could hear screaming, and suddenly realized it was her, and the snow was coming faster, and the wind was blowing hard into her face, and she could barely keep her eyes open but —

The sled bumped on something, and for a second, she was flying. Then she landed onto the hard packed snow, rolling onto her back and laughing incredulously. She sat up and looked around to see if her husband had made it through alright as well.

Eric was just to her right, along with the sled, starting to sit up too, grinning so widely she felt her heart warm. He shook snow out of his now disheveled hair, and when he caught her looking, his grin seemed to widen even more.

"That was thrilling," he said, and she laughed again, nodding in agreement, and adjusting her skirts. "I think there's a little snow on you, darling."

Ariel snorted through her giggles. "All over me you mean!"

"Want to go again?" He asked, although he already knew the response.

"Absolutely! Again, and again, and again! We could even learn to do tricks!" She declared, throwing her arms out. "We can do this until the sun goes down; then we'll do it at night!"

He laughed this time, and unbeknownst to her, gathered a fistful of snow in his right hand. Catching her off guard, he kissed her hard, before yanking away and shoving the snow in the back of her dress. She shrieked at the cold sensation, writhing around.

"Meet you at the top!" He said, grabbing the sled and running away before she could catch him.

She gasped in shock, getting up and yelling after him. "You are in _so_ much trouble!"

Then she started after him, wet dress and all.

* * *

It was past sunset by the time they made their way back to the castle. Had they both not been soaking wet and shivering there probably would have been a good scolding on showing up after dinner. But Carlotta had taken one look at them, grinning like fools, but in desperate need of warmth, and had decided to take pity. They were both sent off to long, hot soaks, given a hearty meal, and were given hot chocolate in front of a roaring fire.

Max, of course, had fallen asleep on their bed, after a long day of trying to find out why everything smelled differently. Eric had taken up residence on one end of the couches in their room, bare feet propped up on a small table that was likely an antique and not meant to be used as such. On the ground were a stack of more reports, like the one he was reading now, about the snowfall. He wanted to get through most of them by tonight.

Ariel, meanwhile, had her long hair loose, as it was still wet from her bath earlier. She was on the other end of the couch, pretending to be reading a book, but really studying her husband. Her feet were in his lap, but she'd rolled down her a pair of wool stockings to just cover her toes. Absently, one of Eric's hands was rubbing her feet, and the sensation nearly put her to sleep.

Nearly.

She still had things she needed to discuss with him. She just wasn't sure how to bring it up. So instead, she pretended to read a book she'd found by the grandfather clock earlier (how had it gotten there?), and watched the lines in Eric's face.

"Ariel?" He suddenly asked, and she jumped a little, startled out of her musings. His eyes never left the paper he was reading.

"Mhm?" She made a noise in reply, trying to sound casual.

"What's seventy-two times sixteen?"

She twisted her lips, thinking hard for a moment, mentally calculating the numbers in her mind. "One thousand, one hundred, and…fifty-two."

"Thank you," he answered, still never looking up.

Her heart leapt into her throat, and she sat up slightly. This was her chance. "I can help if there's other math in there, you know that's my best subject, I could even — "

Eric waved her off. "Don't worry about it, the rest is just reading through, go back to your book."

She sighed, defeated, and fell back slightly. "Right. Okay. I'll just go back to reading…" she turned the spine towards her, reading out, "'Civil Goat Milking: Practices and Procedures'".

"Sounds interesting," he responded mechanically, and she narrowed her eyes at the book.

"I guess, if you like milking goats. Or you _are_ a goat."

Eric made a noise at her comment, still obviously not paying attention to her. For a second she debated throwing the very thick book at him, to see if that got him to notice anything. But she decided against it; it'd be mean, and she didn't want him to claim a head injury to get out of this much-needed conversation.

"Eric," she started, sitting up once again, this time all the way. He made another noise, acknowledging he'd heard her, but not looking her way. "We need to talk."

"Right, keep talking, I'm listening," he said, never looking at her.

She sighed once again. "Eric, this is important."

"Uh-huh, important," he echoed.

Her eyes flashed. She was starting to get annoyed. He _was_ going to pay attention to what she had to say, she just needed to get him to understand that point too.

She lifted her head, and decided on a final tactic. If he didn't get this, then there was no hope for her tonight.

"Eric, I'm pregnant."

"Sure, you're preg — you're _what_?!" That caused him to look up at her, the color draining from his face, and his eyes bulging out like a blowfish.

"I'm not actually," she said quickly, bringing a nail up to her mouth, nervous for his reaction now. Obviously she'd caught him a little off guard. "Pregnant, I mean. I'm not _actually_ pregnant."

"Please, _stop_ saying that word," he begged, the papers now having fallen from his hand and onto her feet. He gripped the couch to steady himself, his breathing now shallow. "You said…you said you were…"

"I know. I wanted to get your attention." She answered smoothly. "I'm not expecting. I'm not having a baby. I'm not _anything_."

"Are you…are you _sure_?" He asked hoarsely, though his grip on the couch lessened some, and the pounding of his heart went down a bit.

She raised a red brow delicately. "Do you want a detailed account on my last time of the month?"

That made his face pale again. "No, I'm okay without one. Just…you're _positive_ right? There's nothing…?"

"We can go down to the infirmary to find out, if you're so concerned, but Doctor Berg is going to say what I'm saying." She chewed on the nail, now trying to think what would she say if Eric _did_ drag her downstairs to make sure.

She started counting the days — when _had_ her last monthly visit happened? She couldn't even remember, there just always seemed like there was something to do, somewhere to be, someone to see. Mentally, she shrugged it off, and dropped her hand; she was probably just late, it happened, no need to alarm him further.

He searched her face for a long moment, debating what to do in his mind. Finally, he let out a long breath of air, releasing the couch slowly, and allowing the color to return to his face. "No, it's alright, I believe you. You…You scared me there for a minute."

She swallowed hard, looking down at her hands. "I didn't mean to, I only wanted to talk to you."

He looked at the papers that had fallen onto his lap, down to the reports on the floor, and back at his wife. The work could wait. "Okay. You've got my attention. What's going on?"

She brought a nail back up to her teeth, chewing on it once more. "Last night, when we were talking about it snowing — well, _I_ was saying it would snow, _you_ were acting like a shark with a toothache, and I was right by the way, I told you — "

"Ariel," he cut in. "You're the one rambling now."

"Right, back on the tide, so, um, we made that bet, and I won, and not to throw it in your face, but we _did_ agree that if I won I'd get the chance to… opentheUniversitytowomen!" She blurted the last part out, her words mushing together. She bit down on her nail harder, feeling it start to crack beneath her teeth.

"Oh."

She felt her cheeks heat up. What was it about this that made her feel like she was talking to her father? She could tell Eric anything, he was her best friend, her _husband_! And yet...right now she felt less like a queen and more like a sixteen-year-old girl unsure of what to do next.

"So…?" She prodded, anxious for his thoughts on the subject.

He sighed. "It's not so easy, Ariel, a lot of politics are involved."

"I'm not afraid of politics, I've grown up around them my whole life," Ariel shrugged, moving onto another nail now.

"But you've never actually been a part of it," Eric said, keeping his voice light so that she wouldn't take offense. "The world of politics is…messy."

"One time Urchin lost Daddy's trident, and the Evil Manta somehow got it, and then Urchin stole it _back_ and tried to shoot the Evil Manta, and Flounder was in this unconsciousness, _glowing_ state…" she trailed off, shaking her head at the memory with a frown, fingers dropping back to her lap. "My point is, I've _dealt_ with messy. If I can open the University to women, then I'll be able to do so much _more_."

"This isn't some adventure, where things might go awry, but in the end everything is okay," he returned, a bit of frustration creeping into his voice. "This is a kingdom. _M_ y kingdom. If something happens, if anything goes wrong, I'm in charge, it's _my_ fault."

"But that's what I'm trying to say," she argued, pushing back a lock of her hair. "You don't _have_ to do this alone. I _want_ to help; as I recall, I did a pretty good job helping you make a treaty with Daddy on fishing. All I'm asking for is your support in front of the council, so that they don't look at me like some little girl who doesn't know what she's doing."

"The council will never go for this. And I'm not either. That's final." He kept his voice even for good measure, but he struggled to meet her eyes, knowing as he said it that it wouldn't go over well.

Ariel withdrew her feet from him, instead sitting on them to give her extra height. Her face twisted into a scowl. "'That's _final_ '? We had a bet, and _I_ won. As far as I'm concerned, I don't need your permission!"

"It's not your job!" His voice raised, sharp and angry now. "Don't you get that? It's _my_ duty! Every single decision, all those little problems — that's all on me! It's never going to be your place!"

Ariel leaned back, cringing at the harsh tone, and trying hard to blink away the frustrated tears in her eyes. She wasn't used to him talking to her like that. Or diminishing her role so easily.

Eric, meanwhile, was suddenly wide-eyed, a stricken look on his face. He groaned, allowing his head to fall back and closing his eyes. "Great. I've turned into my father."

She turned to look at him, curious, but not trusting her voice, as she had a feeling it would break. She watched as he pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead, and his eyes squeezed tightly, as though there was some painful memory embedded in there.

"My father would always say, "A woman's place is beside her husband; there is nowhere else for her to be". And my mother…it was like she was a shadow, always there, always dressing up, but never allowed to be on her _own_." He paused, looking slightly over at Ariel, his features pulled low in consternation. "I think she hated him for that."

"Eric," she started slowly, carefully choosing each word. "You are not your father."

"But I am, aren't I?" He argued, lifting his head, a fair amount of stricken guilt playing across his features. "And I'm treating _you_ like he treated my mother, dressing up every day and hoping to be included, but just stuck to the background like wallpaper."

"…that's what set you off earlier, isn't it?" She wondered quietly, letting her thoughts pour out as they came in. "I made that comment about the sled maybe being from the someone on the council, someone trying to, um, _jelly_ me up, and you said it was a wedding present for your mother…and then when I mentioned maybe not using it…"

"Butter you up," he corrected absently, looking over at the fire. He ran a hand through his dark hair. "When you mentioned not using it, I made a mean comment about you not saying that about any of the royal jewelry. Kind of implying you'd only married me for the fancy jewels. Still sorry about that."

"You already apologized," Ariel shook it off, not pausing as she continued on with, "But you got upset because it reminded you of seeing her unhappy, didn't it? She was always dressing up, but only to be..."

"To be his trophy." Eric finished softly, his shoulders dropping at the realization. He looked over at her, trouble in his eyes. "I don't want you to be a trophy."

"I don't either," she responded, breaking eye contact with him to stare down at her nails. "You can't change what your father thought, or how he acted, but you _can_ change _you_ , you know."

"I know," he answered, worry now marking his tone. "I think about my parents, how they acted like strangers and…I don't want that. I think about my mother, how miserable she always was, and my father spending _days_ locked in his study."

"I asked Daddy once, about being crowned so young, and he said the hardest part wasn't ruling, but remembering that this wasn't something he _had_ to do on his own." She said, reaching back into her own memories to try and help him. "And...I don't think my mother was really interested in politics, but from what I've been able to pick up, he relied on her for help, when he needed it."

She picked at a string on her nightgown's sleeve, tugging it restlessly. "Look, I'm the seventh daughter, I thought I was _never_ going to be ruling a country but now that I'm here…if you let me in, I could do so much, with you. We're never going to be _my_ parents, and we're never going to be _your_ parents, we're…us. I know your father made you think this was all on you…but what if he was wrong? What if the both of us did it _our_ way instead?"

"So what you're saying is...I should… _we_ should do this, together? Run this kingdom, you and me, right next to one another? Share in every bad decision?" He wondered, slow and deliberate with each word he used, though his tone was surprised.

"And every _good_ decision," she added, nodding, and scooting closer to him so that she could take one of his hands. "I know it's unusual, I know that monarchies tend to be one-person-really-in-charge kind of thing, but why can't we change that?"

He let out a controlled breath of air. "It won't be easy for me, to change what I grew up learning, what I've done for years on my own. Not to mention you've never _had_ all the lessons in economics, legislating, and policy enacting. And the council would have a _cow_ when they found out you're just as in charge as I am."

"Eric," she said seriously, catching his ice-blue eyes. "I don't want to be in the background. I _can't_ be in the background anymore. If the highlight of my day is another tea with so-and-so's daughter's-cousin's-sister-in-law, I _will_ scream."

He took his hand out of hers, and leaned forward with a deep sigh, resting his elbows on his legs, and his face in both his hands. He knew she was frustrated and bored with only having to keep a social calendar. He had married her _because_ she'd been different, after all, not like those snooty princesses whose days were spent on romantic books and frilly ball gowns.

He knew what she wanted him to say. She wanted to have the authority to run this kingdom, and as he technically outranked her by being the last true heir of his family name, he was the only person who could give that to her. But turning his back on everything he'd been taught, all the times they had told him the kingdom's future lay on his shoulders alone?

And he wasn't lying earlier when he said that politics was messy. It was downright cutthroat, with monarchies having fallen before. Even if that was a worst-case scenario, the nature of the beast was that there were people from all walks of life, and some of them were irritable, or just plain nasty. She'd been ticked off when someone's daughter referred to her as an amphibian, how would she react if she knew there were worse, much worse, things people said, _especially_ if she was on the front lines?

Then again…

From within the cracks in his hands, his eyes darted to the stack of papers he'd yet to sort through, still on the floor. He'd been bringing more and more work in at night, and he was struggling to make headways with all the additional documents in his study. Sure he could push things off till the next day, in order to give himself much needed rest, but for how long could that last? He still had this overwhelming need to be the kind of king his kingdom deserved, but that was growing harder as the stacks of paperwork kept growing taller.

Idly, he closed his eyes for a second, thinking back to his parents. His mother, standing there in all her finery, barking orders at the workers and servants as she redesigned half the castle; her lack of established role with his father made her take those frustrations on everyone, and everyt _hing_ , else. And his father…only rarely did he make it for meals. Most of the time they were sent to his study, left barely touched in some corner of the desk.

He grimaced. Was that what _his_ marriage would come to look like? Both of them unhappy, stuck in their own little worlds, living like strangers?

He straightened up, pushing back his hair with determination.

That would _not_ be their story. He would make sure of it.

He turned to look at her, and noticed her anxious eyes. She was biting her lip as well, tapping her fingers restlessly against the couch.

"Okay. Let's do it."

She stared at him.

"Are you serious?"

He nodded, a bit hesitantly. "I don't want you to be wallpaper. Or a trophy. Or by my side just because "that's a woman's place". I…I trust you. And…" he inhaled deeply, not liking how the next words were going to hurt his pride, "I could _use_ the help. With everything. So…you're right. Let's do this _our_ way."

She kept staring. She had _not_ thought her jumbled ramblings would _actually_ convince him. "Even if the council thinks I'm too young?"

He shrugged. "You'll be seventeen next week."

"And if tomorrow I announce I want to open the University to women?"

"If those stuffy old academics give you trouble, I'll tell them to hang it, he answered. "Look, I'm not saying this is going to be easy, spouses generally tend not to be involved on the whole running a country thing. But I _want_ to do this with you. You and me. Together."

Ariel smiled, slowly, but it shined through. Marriage was hard work. Running a kingdom wasn't going to be any easier. But if he was willing to give her the chance she so desperately needed to prove to herself, and everyone else, then it would be worth it.

She launched herself at him, capturing his lips in hers for a kiss. She could feel the smile on his mouth, and she brought her hands up to his face, anchoring herself there. Her body melded into his, and she deepened the kiss.

"Ariel," she heard him say her name against her lips, and she tried to shush him up by kissing harder.

"Mhm, Ariel, wait, hold on," he managed, with some difficulty to pry her off, steadying his gaze on her. "Max is sleeping on the bed."

Ariel frowned, her brows pulling low. She rested her forehead against his, breathless as she muttered, "Damn dog."

Eric let a sly smile rest on his features. "Such language. Have you been hanging around a _sailor_ lately, your majesty?"

"More like there's a sailor who's been hanging around _me_ ," she replied cheekily, sighing, and extricating herself from slightly him. "In any case, thank you, for trusting in me. And saying I'm right. And…for not letting me become wallpaper."

He reached a hand up, enough to smooth back a portion of her still damp hair. How could he ever be a stranger to her? "I love you."

"I love you too," she answered, kissing his nose with a giggle. "I still beat you, though."

"And to the victor go the spoils," he answered, reaching down and grabbing a few of the reports. "You take one half, I take the other?"

She pursed her lips, eyeing the documents for a moment, then switching back to him, before shaking her head. "Actually, I have something to do."

She removed herself from him entirely, getting up and starting to walk away. She hummed some nonsense tune to herself, nightgown swirling across her ankles, and wool stockings long since lost somewhere by the couch.

"Wait, I thought we were in this together?" he called after her, using his elbows to prop himself up on the armrest. "Wasn't that what we just talked about? What about all these reports?"

She didn't look back at him as she answered, "We can work on it later; I'm so hot, all covered up like this."

She continued humming, the door to her dressing room swinging open, and staying that way, even after she had entered. Eric blinked, his gaze wandering from the fire, to the long since abandoned mugs of hot cocoa, and even the papers he'd never gotten to, before finally resting on the open door of her dressing room.

Was that an invitation?

He grinned.


	3. Bedtime Routines

_**Hello there faithful followers of this story! I'd had this idea for months, and finally had the time to write it all out. If you have any ideas/requests, feel free to shoot me a pm! And as always, please review!**_

 _ **-Converse r life**_

* * *

"…and then a shark came after the princess!"

A loud splash followed by a shriek reverberated off the bathroom walls. Ariel leaned against the doorframe, watching with a mildly amused expression, as water sloshed over the sides of the tub, and her daughter scrambled to the back end of the white porcelain. Sopping wet, the little princess' long dark hair came down in thick pieces, and white, foamy bubbles were spread across her skin.

Her father was not fairing much better, Ariel noted. Though Eric had rolled up his sleeves, it had done little, as there were still wet spots across his shirt. Even from her angle, Ariel could see the bubbles that had somehow made it into his hair, and the variety of toys that littered the wet marble around his knees.

"Daddy, no!" Melody cried, through her giggles. "That's not a shark, that's a _whale_!"

"Huh?" Eric wondered, looking down at the toy. In his peripheral vision he'd only seen gray, and had assumed it had to be something vicious. Instead, his daughter was right, and he'd picked up a gentler creature. "Alright then, so a _whale_ attacks the princess!"

Melody's eyes widened, right before she dove for the pink object she knew to be at the bottom of the tub. "I'll save her!"

"No, Mel, it's too late, the whale already has her in its sights!" Eric declared dramatically, charging the toy forward towards the little girl. "Watch out! It's coming for you both! You're not going to make it!"

Melody closed her hand around the toy, and shot upwards, scrambling to get onto her two feet. "I got her! It can't get me now, I'm bigger!"

"Oh, no, Mel, it's still coming!" Eric laughed, raising the toy now and angling it slowly upwards to her. "You're going to have to scare it away before it hurts you _and_ the princess!"

"No, Daddy!" She shrieked again, this time looking for another toy, but not finding what she needed. Instead, the girl acted fast, swiping at the incoming animal so hard she fell backwards. "Stop it!"

Eric made a dramatic noise, letting the whale drop into the water with a soft _plop_. "You've saved the princess! The whole kingdom will be forever in your debt, Knight of the Bath."

"Yes!" The girl shouted gleefully, jumping back to her feet, and putting both her hands on her hips. "I'm the bravest and bestest knight _ever_!"

Eric grinned, rearing for a response that would inflate her ego more. But before he could do so, another voice chimed in.

"Don't forget the _soggiest_ knight, as well."

Melody gasped, just as her father whipped around in surprise. "Mommy!"

The girl clambered out of the tub, struggling to keep her soapy feet from slipping on the edge, or on the floor, as she ran over. She wasn't tall enough yet for a proper hug, but it didn't stop her from grabbing hold of her mother's skirt and wrapping herself within it.

"Hi, sweetheart," Ariel murmured, her voice warm and caring. Melody looked up, grinning like her father, and her wet hair was carefully pushed back to reveal one of her eyes. "No one told me it was bath time."

Eric looked around at the mess, suddenly realizing that most of the floor was surrounded by big puddles, toys were strewn in every which direction, and there were bubbles seemingly everywhere. His smile turned sheepish as her gaze returned to him.

"Well, it _was_ bath time," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess we got a little carried away."

"Mommy, I beat the shark _and_ saved the princess!" Melody declared, her features brightened by the very idea. "I'm a _knight_!"

Eric sent a plaintive look towards the girl, finally standing and feeling for the spots on his shirt that hadn't done so well in this endeavor. "Oh, sure, _now_ it's a shark."

They both ignored him, and Ariel focused back down at her daughter, suddenly taken aback. "A shark? You must be so brave, I can't imagine how scary that would have been!"

"I wasn't scared!" Melody said decisively. "Not even a little!"

"Well, I'm _very_ proud of you, I know _I_ would have run away," Ariel stated, taking the towel that her husband offered, and smiling sweetly when he gave her an incredulous look. She got down to her daughter's height to wrap it tightly around her. "Now, why don't we go fight the tangles in your hair and get you ready for a good story?"

"Can _I_ choose the story?" Melody asked, eyes widening once again.

Ariel laughed. "You always choose the story."

The little girl shook her head. "No! Daddy choosed my story yesterday!"

"Chose," Ariel corrected, "Daddy _chose_ your favorite story yesterday."

"That's not my favorite story!" Melody cried out, nearly affronted at the notion. "I don't like the ducky story!"

"Alright, well, go pick out a nightgown and think about what your _new_ favorite story is for tonight. I'll help you in a minute." Ariel said, kissing the girl's forehead.

Melody thought about this offer carefully, looking between her mother, and her father, weighing her options. Then, her eyes narrowed. "I don't wanna."

"Suit yourself," Ariel shrugged, standing back up. "But Daddy and I are going to be making kissy faces at each other the _whole_ time you're here."

"Ewww." Melody nose scrunched up in disgust. "Not kissy faces, Mommy!"

"Sorry Mel," Eric apologized, as Ariel came to stand by him. He slung his arm around his waist, pinching her hip lightly. She gasped at the touch. "Actually, I think we can do better than kissy faces..."

He turned to Ariel then, quickly catching her lips in a soft kiss. The redhead had been caught off guard, and it showed in the way her lips did not immediately meld into his. There was a scurrying sound as Melody fled the room, and Eric chuckled, breaking off the embrace just as his wife had begun to kiss him back.

"That was easy," he said cheerily. "She might actually go down without bargaining tonight."

"Hm?" Ariel asked, pressing her fingers to her lips, as her heart skipped a beat in her chest.

He lifted a brow, questioning, "Are you okay?"

"Oh!" Ariel was pulled out of her reverie, shaking it off. "Yes, of course, I'm fine."

"How was the meeting with Lord Cry-Baby?" He wondered, his voice struggling to remain nonchalant. "It went on for a while."

"Lord _Rocessor_ and I actually got through most of the details of the new levy imposition from Corona." She returned, giving him a knowing look. "Shockingly enough, when you treat each other nicely, you can work together, and things don't end in a shouting match."

Eric made a face at the name, his casual tone turning sour as he responded, "It's not my fault he hates me."

" _You_ were the one who punched him." Ariel answered, her lips twitching as she forced herself not to smile.

Eric gave her an indignant look. "He was being an ass!"

"I remember," she answered simply, letting his swearing slide, "and it was sweet of you to try and defend me over a ridiculous rumor. But he _has_ requested that from now on, I'm the one who meets with him."

"Well why does he even need to come around?" Eric grumbled, like a petulant child who had been told no sweets before dinner.

"Probably something to do with the fact that he's part of the council and is really good at math," Ariel commented lightly.

"So are you," he pointed out. For as creative and carefree as Ariel was, there was something highly ironic in the idea that she had a knack for the rigidity of numbers.

"Eric, he wrote an entire book on math theories, _and_ he teaches it at the University; I'm not _that_ good," she laughed, rolling off the very idea.

He shrugged. "You're better than I am, that's for sure."

"Honestly, I think our four-year-old is better than you are," she teased, her smile widening. "How was dinner?"

A grin spread across his face again, lopsided now. "We had a great conversation about how many dogs she'll have when she's a grownup."

Ariel tilted her head, wonderingly. "How many?"

"Ah, seven," he paused, letting the number sink in before continuing with, "Eight if we include Max."

"Wouldn't Max get jealous?" Ariel wondered, brows furrowing slightly, but not at all surprised by the number.

"No," Eric answered seriously, although mirth shined in his eyes, "Because she would teach them all how to share and be friends."

"Well, at least the palace would never be quiet." Ariel laughed once more, pushing a few wayward strands of hair behind her ear. Then, as her stomach growled, she grimaced.

Eric took notice, his tone suddenly becoming concerned. "You didn't eat after you were done?"

"No," Ariel answered, shaking her head. "I didn't want to miss bedtime."

"I can stall if you want to grab dinner now," he offered. "I was doing a pretty good job before you came in."

"Mhm, I can see that," she deadpanned, her gaze traveling across the various toys still scattered across the floor, the puddles that had emerged, and finally down to her now wet dress. She sighed. "At least she got me wet after the day was done."

"Still beautiful as ever, darling," Eric returned with a grin, his gaze traveling down the purple and gold detailing of her bodice, to take stock of the bare toes that peeked out beneath her lavender skirt. "Weren't you wearing shoes earlier?"

"I may have accidentally-on-purpose lost them," Ariel said, looking at him guiltily. "They were very pretty, but I like feeling of marble on my feet."

It was his turn to laugh now, resting his hands on her waist. "Forever a mermaid."

Her eyes widened, face paling as she stole a look towards the bathroom door that had been left open, and then back to him with a harsh whisper. "Don't say that. She might hear you."

"Ariel –" he tried to cut in, just as a high, screeching voice from the next room vibrated through the bathroom.

" _Mommmy_! I need _help_!"

A bark followed in what appeared to be agreement.

Ariel looked at him, her face stricken, shaking her head. "I can't…I can't do this right now."

He sighed, bringing his hands up in a surrender. "Alright, fine. Go make sure she's okay. I'll clean up in here."

Her shoulders loosened considerably, collapsing beneath the relief she felt. "Thank you. I love you."

"I love you too," he answered, features softening at the tight smile she gave him. "Sorry if she's a little riled up."

"I can get her to start calming down for bedtime," Ariel shrugged this time, standing on her toes and kissing his cheek. She lifted her skirt, calling over her shoulder as she left the room, "Give me two minutes."

"Always two minutes," he muttered to himself, rolling his eyes affectionately, before looking out at the task before him.

It looked like he might have to give his wife more than her requested time. He really had gone overboard with tonight's bath, although in the moment watching Melody shriek with laughter had been worth it. Grimacing, he grabbed a nearby towel, throwing it over one of the larger puddles. He was careful not to step on any of the toys, lest he be in trouble with his daughter.

As he picked up as best he could, his mind wandered. Even when they were alone Ariel was reluctant to talk about her roots. He knew how much it hurt her to separate from the sea; he'd been the one to hold her at night when the pain became too much to bear. It destroyed him to watch as she struggled to keep the two worlds warring within her at bay.

He frowned, leaning down to pick up a handful of toys and toss them into the tub one by one.

Had it really been years since the day that Sea Witch reared her ugly head and forced them cut off contact with the ocean, for fear of their only child's safety?

Though she would never admit it, he knew Ariel missed her family. _He_ missed her family. It seemed like every time they received news it involved another marriage, another pregnancy, another birthday, another important moment they were missing.

Would Melody ever realize what that awful creature had taken from her, Eric wondered silently, and if that day came, would she forgive her parents for doing what they had believed was the only way to keep her alive?

"… _spied a comely maid,  
It was o'er her red and rosy cheeks  
the tears did dingle down,  
I thought she was some goddess fair,  
the lass of Swansea town…"_

He straightened upon hearing the song, recognizing it and the voice singing. The previous heavy thoughts were filed away immediately, as a slow grin spread across his face.

He looked around the bathroom quickly to inspect the job he'd done.

"Not bad," he muttered, noting that it at least looked habitable, though it was still far from where it had been before bath time tonight. "Well, better than it was, at least."

He nodded to himself, hurrying now, but careful around some of the smaller puddles he'd never gotten to. He walked out of the bathroom, stopping halfway into the room to consider the scene.

" _I said, "Fair maid, what brought you here,  
what brought you here to mourn?"  
"Oh I'm in search of Willie dear,  
my bonny young sailor boy…"_

Ariel, her voice soft and enchanting, was singing the words of an old sailing tune he'd taught her years ago. Her hand lifted and fell in even strokes across Melody's dark hair, using the brush to smooth out the wet knots that lay therein.

For her part, the girl was squirming, now clad in white nightgown with pink embroidered flowers along the sleeves, eager to be done. Max had his head resting in her lap, and Melody scratched behind his ears, giggling when he adjusted his head to give her better access.

Not ten minutes ago their daughter been running around and splashing like some hyperactive animal. Now she was calm enough to be put to bed with a good story.

Eric wondered, not for the first time, how his wife was able to _do_ that.

" _They walked till they reached his cottage  
and there they settled down,  
Young Willie of the royal blue and  
the lass of Swansea town…"_

Eric clapped as she finished, and Melody whipped around so fast it startled Ariel, who dropped the hairbrush to the floor.

"Daddy! You were spying!" The girl declared, neck craning to see him from her seat. "That's not nice."

"I wasn't spying, I was trying to hear Mommy better," he explained with a laugh, his long strides reaching his wife and daughter in just a few moments. "She's the best singer I've ever heard."

Ariel snorted, reaching down to pick up the hairbrush. "I'm average, at best, Eric. I never went to any of my music lessons."

"That's because you never needed them," Eric declared, coming down to Melody's height, ruffling Max's head affectionately on her lap. Ariel resumed brushing the girl's hair, listening silently as he turned his attention to their daughter. "Are you taking good care of the mutt?"

"Yes," Melody answered, face scrunching up in thought. "He's kinda smelly, though."

"Maybe tomorrow you can help give him a bath, then," he suggested, leaning over to kiss the side of her head affectionately. "Maybe we'll give you _both_ a bath outside, at the same time."

"Then I'll just get dirty again because I'll be outside!" Melody answered, giggling again at the ridiculousness. "And there's no towels outside!"

Eric shrugged. "You'd have to be like Max and shake off all the water."

"But I'm not a doggy!"

"You're not?" He pretended to be surprised. "But I thought you had four paws!"

"No!" Melody cried out, sticking her hands in his face, and her feet out from under her. "See? I have _two_ hands and _two_ feet!"

"I don't see anything." Eric answered, purposefully looking away.

"Daddy!" She whined, eyes growing wide. "I'm a big girl, I'm not a doggy!"

"Eric," Ariel's voice finally chimed in, a sigh within it. "You're going to make her upset."

"Oh, come on," he brushed it off, smiling at his daughter. "Mel, you know I'm just kidding, right?"

"Yes," the girl nodded, before pausing and saying, "But I'm not a doggy, okay? I'm a big girl."

He was caught off guard by her statement, blinking and trying to process it, when Ariel said smugly, "I told you so."

He looked up at his wife, who returned his gaze with a too-sweet smile, before she turned her attention back to their daughter.

"There," she said, placing the brush back down at the vanity table, "All done."

"Good!" Melody answered, wasting no time in launching herself against her father. He managed to catch her as they both fell back against the rug, Max barking and jumping around them, and Ariel carefully stepping over all of this without blinking an eye. "C'mon Max, Daddy is a dragon!"

"What? Since when?" Eric asked, bewildered, but laughing all the same as Melody clambered off him, and grabbed his arm.

"Since now!" She answered, trying to drag him across the floor. "Knights slay the dragon, Daddy, before they save the princess! Max, help me and grab Daddy's other arm!"

"Do you know what "slay" means?"

She paused in her ministrations, face contorting wildly as she tried to come up with a definition. "It means—It means you gotta make the dragon go home?"

"…sure, why not."

"I was right!" She stated loudly, grabbing his arm once more and trying to drag him again, while Max had decided he'd had enough of this game, and had retired to the edge of her bed to sleep. Eric was obviously too heavy, and she didn't make much headway. "Come on dragon, you gotta go home!"

"Melody, this _is_ his home," Ariel called from across the room, not even looking to see what her daughter and husband were doing, but instead peering over a bookshelf. "Can you come help me pick out which story you want tonight?"

"Mommy! We're busy playing!" The girl responded, already pouting, but not quite willing to let go of the dragon yet.

Ariel straightened, looking over her shoulder, enough to warn, "If you don't pick out your story, I'm going to pick one out for you."

Melody looked wide-eyed between her mother, and her dragon, trying to decide which was worth it. Evidently her mother's threat carried more weight, because she quickly dropped her father's arm and raced over to where her mother was standing.

"Don't pick a story! I wanna pick my story!" She cried out as she ran, skidding to an unsteady stop in front of her mother.

"I'm not picking one," Ariel relented with a smile, showing her empty hands to the girl. "But get whichever story you want quickly, it's almost bedtime."

Melody turned to the bookshelf, which had a fair collection of books. "I wanna choose…"

She was learning to read now, but still at the stage where everything had to be sounded out, and the words couldn't be more than three or four letters. Still, she knew which book was which by the colors, and she also knew that if she didn't want any of these, there were more in the palace library.

But the story she wanted tonight was not in any book. Not here in the nursery, not in the palace library, maybe not even in the whole world was it written down.

"Mommy," she started, turning to her mother with big eyes, trying to use her nicest voice, "Can I have a mermaid story?"

Ariel jerked at the word, before going very still. Still on the floor, Eric propped himself up on his elbows, brows raised high.

"Melody, can't you choose another story? One out of a book?" Ariel asked, her voice nearly pleading. "What about the one where the baby lion makes two friends and they go into the jungle and he learns to eat bugs? Or the one where the princess accidentally turns her mother into a bear? You know, something _on land_?"

"I want a mermaid story." Melody answered decisively, crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly.

"Why don't I tell you a fun story about how I broke my leg one winter when the King of Arendelle and I were boys?" Eric suggested, trying to come to his wife's rescue.

Melody seemed to consider it, for a moment at least, before shaking her head. "I _really_ want a mermaid story. Please, Mommy? I won't ask for another one for a whole 'nother year!"

Ariel sighed. A year for her daughter translated to about two days.

It'd been her fault this happened. With an inconsolable and sick two-year-old, and at her wits end, Ariel dove into a tale about a little mermaid with a list of impressive adventures beneath the sea. Melody had taken it all in with rapturous delight.

Ariel had thought it would end there, but through the years Melody had kept requesting more, and the older she'd gotten, the frequency of those requests increased as well. She used to be able to go months without one as a toddler. Now her parents were lucky if they got two weeks.

"Alright, fine, mermaid story it is," Ariel murmured, earning her a winning smile from her daughter, who immediately ran to her bed.

Eric stood up, watching as his wife passed by him. Her grabbed her hand instinctively, squeezing it tightly. He knew how hard these stories were for her. She paused, turning to look at him.

"I'm fine," she breathed quietly, loud enough for him to hear. "It's fine. It's just a story."

"You don't have to," he said, trying to make sure she understood. "I can distract her."

"It's just a story," she repeated, shaking her head, and with his hand in hers continuing to Melody's pink and white canopied bed.

Already the girl had settled herself beneath the sheets, her favorite doll of the week in bed beside her. Max was snoring lightly at the edge of the bed, every now and then twitching in his dreams. Both her parents came to lay beside her, and she curled up on her father's ribs when he wrapped an arm around her.

"Let's see, which mermaid story…" Ariel mumbled, trying to recall which ones that wouldn't be too hard for her daughter to grasp. "Ah, okay, I have it."

Melody squealed in delight, hugging her doll tightly to her.

"Once upon a time, there was a little mermaid who lived under the sea," Ariel began, slowly, giving herself time to work up to the story itself.

"She was a princess who lived in a big kingdom called Atlantica!" Melody interjected, knowing how these stories went. "And she had lots of friends!"

"She did," Ariel agreed, "But she also had a lot of sisters."

"How many?"

"Too many," her mother replied, a fond smile across her features. "But she didn't always get along with all her sisters."

"How come?"

Ariel shrugged. "They were all older than her and thought they could tell her what to do."

Melody made a face. "That's silly. Only your Mommy and Daddy can tell you what to do."

"Mhm, well, the little mermaid's sisters thought that _they_ were her Mommy and Daddy," Ariel returned, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "So sometimes, they would get into fights."

Melody gasped. "Fighting isn't nice!"

"No, it's not," Ariel agreed, "but they did it anyway. And one day, when the little mermaid was just a little older than you, she got into a big fight with one of her sisters."

"What about?" This time the question came from Eric, who was just as engrossed in the story as his daughter was. Ariel gave him a look, and for the second time that night, he gave her a sheepish smile. "Sorry, just wondering."

"The little mermaid's older sister wanted her to stop playing with her toys, but the little mermaid didn't see why it was such a big deal. I mean, really, she had a million of them, could she not give up just one? For an hour? What could have—"

"Mommy, get back to the story!" Melody huffed, and Ariel slid her eyes over to the girl, blinking, and nodding.

"Sorry, okay, where were we…?"

"The little mermaid's big sister didn't want her to play with her toys anymore," Melody prompted on cue, waiting eagerly to hear the rest.

Ariel nodded again, slowly. "Right. Well, they both got into a big fight, and the little mermaid and her sister were punished."

"By who?"

"Their Mommy." It was one of the few fleeting glimpses of memory Ariel still retained, not of her mother's face, but of looking upwards and seeing her mother's tail and knowing she was in trouble now.

"Then what?"

"Then, upset, the little mermaid decided to swim away from home," Ariel explained, pausing for just a moment to collect her thoughts. "She…she packed her favorite guppy doll, and grabbed a snack, and decided never to go back."

"Never is a long time," Eric whistled, and Melody nodded against him solemnly in agreement.

Ariel, lost in the memory now, looked off to the window. The wall, which would be finally complete in a week or two, was all she could see. "She was very angry with her Mommy."

"Then what happened?" Melody asked, oblivious to the heavy weight that had overcome her mother.

Ariel, for her part, shook it off quickly, returning to the story. She couldn't let her daughter have _any_ inkling that this was about her. "She swam away from home as far as she could go. And then, when her fins got tired, she asked a friendly whale if she could lay on his back while he swam."

"Did the whale say yes?" Melody asked, enraptured.

"Yes, he did, and the little mermaid went even _further_ from home. Then she found a big cave and fell asleep inside of it, because it was nap time and she was tired" Ariel continued with the story, momentarily stopping for any questions. Both Melody and Eric watched her expectantly, their voices silenced for now.

Ariel pressed forward with the tale. "She ate her snack, and went to sleep. Only, sleep wasn't so easy, because the cave made a lot of funny noises, and the little mermaid missed her family."

"What kinda funny noises?"

"Well, that's the odd part, it sounded like something hissing, and at first it was far away, but then it kept getting closer, and closer, until — "

"Until what?" Eric asked, a familiar feeling of dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

"Until it was right up next to the little mermaid, and she opened her eyes, and looked at something big, and yellow, and ugly," Ariel said dramatically, as Melody clutched her father tightly.

"Was it a monster?" The little girl whispered, horrified.

Ariel shook her head. "Worse. It was a giant sea snake; this was its cave. And it was hungry."

"Oh no!" Melody cried, shaking her head. "It can't get her, it can't, Mommy!"

"It snapped its mouth at the little mermaid, and she swam close to the top of the cave and went in a zig-zag pattern, trying to confuse the snake, and it worked! He hit his head, and rocks started falling down, trapping him inside." Ariel's smile returned, triumphantly now, but Melody had no relief just yet.

Instead the girl asked breathlessly, "What about the little mermaid? What about the rocks, Mommy, did the rocks hit her?"

"They almost did," Ariel replied, "but the little mermaid was little, and fast, and she managed to just make it out of the cave before she was hurt, or worse, trapped inside with the snake."

Melody released her father's shirt, not noticing his sigh of relief. "Oh, okay good. I was scared."

"So was the little mermaid," Ariel said, continuing, "she decided she would go back home right away."

"She wasn't mad anymore?" Melody asked, and Ariel shook her head.

"No, she realized that she missed her home, and she didn't want to find anymore sea snakes." Ariel explained, just as her daughter reared up with another question.

"What did her Mommy do?"

Ariel's smile became nostalgic. "Her Mommy hugged her _really_ tight and the little mermaid promised if she was angry and upset like that again, she would talk to her sisters, or her Mommy, or her Daddy, but she wouldn't swim away because it didn't solve any problems, it just created more."

"Yeah, like a ugly sea snake trying to eat her!" Melody pointed out. "She never did that again, right Mommy?"

Eric snickered, but disguised it cleverly with a cough at the look his wife gave him. "The point Mommy is trying to make is that you can't run away from your problems, Mel. And if you're ever upset, you should talk to us and say _why_ , so we can fix it."

The girl turned her face up to her father, brows furrowing in confusion. "But Daddy, I don't wanna runaway!"

Eric sighed, looking up to the canopy. "I didn't mean now. I meant when you're a teenager."

"Oh." Melody understood, before shaking her head. "Daddy, you're silly, I'm not gonna be a teenager!"

"We can hope," Ariel muttered, mostly to herself, though Eric turned to her slightly and nodded in agreement. "Anyway, it's time to go to sleep."

"Wait!" Melody argued, trying to extend her bedtime. "Are the little mermaid and her big sister friends _now_?"

"Melody," Ariel began, her voice tightening. "I've told you before, these are _stories_. Merpeople, Atlantica, none of it is _real_. It's all an old fish-tale."

"What if _is_ , Mommy?" Melody wondered, a plan starting to already develop in her mind, "Someday, I'm gonna go out to the sea, and I'm gonna —"

"No!" Ariel's voice came out harsher than she intended, and both her husband and daughter flinched. She softened it considerably, but the razor-sharp edge did not disappear. "The sea isn't safe. Don't even _talk_ about going out there."

"How come it's not safe?" The girl wondered, not for the first time.

Ariel's shoulders dropped. Her daughter was entitled to a normal life, one where she didn't have to look over her shoulder wondering if that sea witch was watching her. "Because…because it is. We're not discussing this anymore, it's time to go to sleep."

"But I don't wanna!" The girl pouted, crossing her arms over her chest once more in an act of defiance. "One more story!"

"That's enough, Melody," Eric's even tone, and use of her full name, devoid of its usual playfulness made the girl sit up straighter. She knew when to stop pushing her parents. "It's bedtime. Mommy and I are going to tuck you in, and then _you're_ going to sleep."

There was no question, or room for further arguments. This was a statement that her day was officially over, and as such, the girl acquiesced to her parents' wishes. She sighed, but still slipped further down, resting her head on her pillow, as the sheets were lifted and gathered around her.

"Goodnight, sweetie," Ariel said, her voice still tight, and unaccustomedly small as she leaned over to kiss the girl's cheek. "I love you."

"Sleep tight, Mel," Eric said, mimicking his wife's actions, though his eyes were trained on her, and not their daughter.

Melody settled into bed, and curled her arm around her doll. Muffled by her pillow, she replied, "Goodnight."

Her parents quietly left her bed, and she watched with curious eyes as they blew out the candles, leaving one small one on a high shelf near her toy chest as her nightlight. Then, they left her room, the door closing quietly behind them.

Melody lifted herself out of the bed slightly, checking to make sure they were gone. Then she hung upside down, grabbing a few sheets of paper and a handful of wax coloring sticks. She brought herself, and everything else, back up to her bed, and looked at her collection thus far.

Each paper had a different drawing, most of them used for front and back purposes. Each drawing included the same little mermaid, although the adventures differed from sharks chasing her, to a whale hiding under her bed.

Satisfied with what she had so far, Melody flipped to the back of one such paper, and started to draw a big, ugly, yellow sea snake, and a little mermaid inside of its cave.

"I'm gonna find a mermaid, one day," she whispered decisively to herself, giving an affirmative nod to her own words, before pausing and twisting her lips, just like her mother did when she was thinking hard. "Maybe I'll even _be_ a mermaid, one day."


	4. Wardrobe Malfunction

_Hi! This one is a bit shorter than usual, but the ending (I think) is sweet, and a slight reprieve from the heavier one-shots of late. As always, let me know what you think, and if you have any suggestions, let me know!_

 _-Converse r life_

* * *

Ariel stared at her open wardrobe.

It was a huge piece of furniture, taller than Eric for sure, and probably wider than the length of her body. It took up half the wall, the wood gleaming from a recent shine. It was curved and elegant and everything a royal should have in their dressing room.

It was also filled with dresses.

 _A lot_ of dresses.

More dresses than Ariel had had before she went on her honeymoon, considering she'd taken all her finished clothes with her _on_ the trip. Yes, she realized a lot could happen in three days, but an entire _wardrobe_? And from the looks of it, more dresses were to come too, because the giant piece of furniture still had plenty of space to fill.

The clothes themselves were colorful, vibrant, and there were fabrics she was itching to touch, to see if they felt the way they looked. It was new and exciting, basically everything she loved in one convenient location.

So why wasn't she head over fins with joy?

"Are you ready to go downstairs?" A voice called from within the bedroom, making Ariel turn towards it. "I'm starving."

She didn't respond, instead turning back to the dresses, pursing her lips at the thought of them. At all of them. Each one had such refinement and detail, not a stitch out of place, not a thread even a little loose.

"Ariel?" Her name was called this time, and she still didn't answer.

She tried scanning through the clothes with her eyes. Was there anything…normal? Something in there she'd worn before, or seen before, or at least a little familiar with? She sighed, blowing her bangs away from her face when it appeared that there was nothing of the sort.

She was starting to consider sitting on the floor all day and continuing to stare like this when she heard heavy footsteps starting to come in her direction. She didn't turn around to them, but a frown settled across her features anyway.

"Hello?" There was laughter in Eric's voice as he came through the doorway, expecting her to turn around with a gasp and say she hadn't heard him calling.

Instead, her back was turned to him, arms crossed over her chest, and shoulders held tightly. Her hair had been brushed neatly, but she was only dressed in undergarments, a camisole and pantalets.

His face grew hot with embarrassment, not accustomed to seeing her in such a state of undress. At least when she had a petticoat on her shape wasn't as easily discernable. The clear outline of her hips coupled with the expanse of her bare shoulders, and half her calves in clear view caused him to swallow uncomfortably.

Of course, he'd seen _more_. Even as a mermaid her clothing consisted only of shells. But this was _different_ , now they were back home, _their_ home for the rest of their lives. And so, with this in mind, he approached her cautiously, not sure what the situation called for.

"Ariel?" He said her name again, slower this time, questioningly. He came to stand beside her, and followed her gaze to her open wardrobe, which hosted an assortment of gowns. He turned his head to look back at her, confused now. "Are you surprised?"

She nodded in a mechanical way. "It's a lot of dresses."

"Do you not like them?" He tried to guess, still not sure what the problem was.

She turned to look at him now, wide-eyed at the words. "I _love_ them. They're all so beautiful."

"Then…what's the problem?" He asked, wanting to understand the issue without pressing her too hard.

"I don't know what to wear," she muttered it softly, so soft that it sounded like a whisper.

"Huh?"

"I don't know what to wear, Eric," she said louder, exasperation obvious in her tone.

"Oh, is that all?" He answered, earning him a sharp look from his newly minted wife.

"' _Is that all_ '?" She repeated, her tone matching the look she'd given him. "Eric, it's not that I can't _decide_ what to wear, it's that I _don't know_ which dress, _to_ wear, for what!"

He shrugged, still not comprehending the issue she was facing. "It doesn't matter what dress you wear. Just don't choose a ball gown for breakfast, that may be a bit much."

Her face went scarlet, and she pressed the palms of her hands over her eyes, suddenly feeling an onslaught of frustrated tears. How did he not understand that she couldn't just _pick out_ any of the gowns?

"I don't know which one is a ball gown," she admitted quietly, the shame welling in her wobbly tone. "I don't know _anything_."

"Hey, don't be upset, that's not true," he interjected, as she took her palms off her eyes, which had become red rimmed and overflowing with tears in the span of a minute.

"How am I supposed to *hiccup* go downstairs when I can't even figure out what dress I'm supposed to _wear_?" She cried, her breath coming out shallow now, in quicker successions as the tears began to fall.

"Wait, why am I getting the feeling you're not talking about what to put on?" He asked, now slightly panicked at her onslaught of tears.

She made a noise, not a yes or no confirmation, and turned into him, burying her face into his shirt, against the now familiar comfort of his warm skin beneath the fabric. The weeks leading up to the wedding were so crazy, and had passed by in such a blur, and then the honeymoon had just been this extended place in time where only the two of them existed that she hadn't had a chance to think about the day-to-day after they were married.

And the day-to-day was _a lot_ to think about.

She felt his fingers lightly press against her shoulder, almost hesitantly, as though he wasn't sure if he was supposed to do this. Intimate gestures had been inappropriate till a few days ago, and they were both trying to adjust to the new freedoms they now had.

"It's okay," he tried to comfort, still not entirely convinced he was doing this correctly. "Maybe I should get someone who's, uh, a woman?"

She looked up at him, through her tear-stained face and snot soaked nose, eyes widening at the idea. "No! You can't!"

The panic in her tone made him wince. "Okay, okay, I won't. What can I do?"

"I don't…I don't know," she answered, voice cracking under the strain. "It's all so _overwhelming_ , Eric."

"What is?"

"This!" She cried out, flinging her hand towards the wardrobe. "I don't know how to _do_ any of this!"

"Alright," he acknowledged, trying to stay calm in the midst her sudden meltdown. "But what can _I_ do to help you?"

"You can't," she despaired, pulling away from his light touch, and tugging at her long hair. "It's all things I should know but I don't because I'm not human and everyone is going to laugh at me, or they'll say I should go back to the sea, and it's not fair, I'm trying to learn, it's not my fault that I can't figure this out!"

"Easy, easy," he murmured, reaching a hand out and resting it on her shoulder. "No one is going to make fun of you. Everyone knows you're still learning."

"But that was okay before, when I was _just_ Ariel. Now I'm…" a lump formed in her throat, frustrated tears rising up again. Helplessly she motioned to the wardrobe again, saying, "I'm not even sure what I'm doing."

"You're scared," he suddenly understood, the shock of it resonating in his voice. Ariel was fearless, diving into everything she did with such passion that he often found himself struggling to keep up. "You're scared you won't catch up to the curve and be like everyone else, that's why you're in here instead of downstairs eating breakfast."

She nodded slowly, raising a hand to her mouth to chew on her pinky nail. She stared at him, wide-eyed and terrified, not of his reaction, but the idea of what would come next.

Eric pulled her close and crushed her against him in a tight hug. She resisted for a moment, but then rested her head against his chest, closing her eyes and listening to the sound of his heart.

"You don't have to try to be like anyone else. _I_ don't want you to be like anyone out there," he started, and she inhaled deeply, savoring his unique smell. "You'll get the hang of it eventually."

She opened her eyes, looking up at him worriedly. "What if I don't? What if I'm always a mermaid who doesn't know the right words to say or the right way to dress? What if I go out there and I end up making a fool of myself…or you?"

"One, I don't _care_ if you don't know the right words or which dress goes with what, and anyone who _does_ is an idiot," he snorted, and she cracked a smile at the shock factor of the insult. "Two, I love you, and not only do I _not_ care, I will _never_ care if you make a fool out of yourself, or me, as long as you do it whole-heartedly and put everything you've got _into_ it."

"What if people talk? What if they say I'm not good enough to be here? To be with _you_?" She wondered, still looking at him with troubling concern.

"Didn't you hear me? I don't care." He countered, shrugging. "And not to point out the obvious, but you _did_ choose to marry me, and I'm not exactly immune to petty gossip."

He took in a breath, brushing back her bangs with a tender touch. "My point is, you've never been _just_ Ariel, not to me at least. You saved me from drowning and then risked your life, _and_ your father, to tell me that. You're smart, and imaginative and you don't back down from challenges, even when they seem impossible, and _I love you_ the way you are."

She stared at him, looked wildly into his comforting ice-blue eyes, the resolve in them, the absolute love for her. Slowly, she felt her panic start to dissipate, replaced instead by the knowledge that he was on her side, and that if she ever figured this human thing out or not, he would never care. He loved her for _her_ , and if she made a million mistakes, he would still be there, grinning and ready with a quick remark.

Not for the first time in the past few days, Ariel wondered how such a silly thing like colored lights in the sky could have led to something so wonderful.

"Thank you," she mumbled against him, meaning it. "You're a good husband."

He made a face, and she smiled slightly. "That still sounds weird. We're _married_. It's almost like we're real adults now."

She rubbed the ring on her left hand with her thumb, thoughtful. She could feel his own band cold against her skin; there was something comforting in knowing that it meant _he_ was _hers_.

"Real adults," she repeated, the words sounding strange on her tongue. A month ago she'd been the youngest of seven, a baby to everyone, and now she was married and living out her life as a human. "So now what?"

"Now?" He wondered, and she nodded, waiting to see if he had any clue what happened next. She certainly didn't. "Now we show up late to breakfast, and afterwards the adventure begins."

"What kind of adventure?" She asked, still pressed against him, and grateful that the contact was not considered inappropriate. They'd certainly flirted with that line one-too-many times before they'd been wed.

"Any kind we want," he answered, grinning. "But you may need shoes."

She pulled away a little, just enough to look down at her bare feet, and then back at him. "And a dress too, I guess. But I still don't know which one to wear for breakfast and which one to wear for a party."

"I'm not much help there," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I can try, though."

She eyed him for a moment, and then looked back at her wardrobe, before turning again to her husband. "I think it might be better to ask for a woman's point of view."

He gave a relieved sigh, his arm dropping and back straightening up. "Right, I'll get Carlotta. You stay here and make sure it doesn't look like you were crying, otherwise _I'm_ going to get it."

This time it was Ariel grinning, as she stood on her toes to kiss him. "Not my fault she likes me better."

"Only because she's dealt with me for eighteen years," he returned, but there was a teasing edge to his words. "I'll see you downstairs for breakfast?"

"If it's pancakes, don't you dare touch mine," she said by way of response, a serious, but lighthearted, warning in her voice. " _Or_ my strawberries."

He laughed. "I'll take that as a 'yes'."

She shoved him lightly, and he staggered dramatically, as though the push had done a lot more.

"This adventure can't begin unless I get dressed," she reminded, pointing at the door, her meaning clear. "And _you're_ not helping."

"Alright, fine, I know when I'm not wanted anymore. But by the way," he said easily, turning to give her a sly look over his shoulder, "if you end up deciding not to wear anything at all, I wouldn't mind."

She gasped in an indignant sort of way, but he was out of the dressing room before she could say anything. A few moments later, she heard the door to the bedroom – _their_ bedroom – open and close, no doubt Eric leaving to go get her some help.

Left to her own devices, at least for the next few minutes, Ariel cautiously took a few steps towards the wardrobe, reaching out slowly to the dresses there. The cloth of a pale yellow dress slipped through her fingers, like water. It wasn't anything she was familiar with, but the association to something she understood eased her worry a bit more.

 _Maybe Eric is right_ , she thought silently to herself, _maybe I shouldn't try so hard to learn all this like a human, but focus on learning it_ my _way instead_.


End file.
